Power of the Prophecy
by thebartender713
Summary: Sixth Year begins with many surprises. The third part of the Mystery Letter and Summer at Grimmauld Place series.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

Early the next morning Dobby arrived in 'Eternal Sunset' to find Harry and Ginny were already awake and making the bed.

"Sir and Miss! You is not supposed to be making beds! Dobby is only too proud to do that for Master Harry!" cried the elf, shaking his finger playfully at the two teenagers.

Ginny smiled, and replied, "Well, Dobby, we thought it was the least we could do. Would you mind helping us take our trunks downstairs?"

Dobby nodded, and proceeded down the flight of stairs to wake up Ron and Hermione, and then magically transfer their trunks to the ground floor. Harry and Ginny headed down to the kitchen, making a quick stop at Ginny's room for her dressing gown. Upon entering the kitchen, Harry couldn't help but smile. Dobby had hung the "family portrait" he had painted on the wall above the table for their going away breakfast. He had also hung a banner reading 'Good Luck at School, Master Harry and Friends!'

Ginny giggled. "Wow, Harry, that elf really does care about you, doesn't he?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"You know, Gin, some days I don't even know what I would do without him."

"You're telling me!" surmised Ron, entering the kitchen. "You be as thin as a stick without all the food he cooks for us!"

Harry laughed. "Yeah- look what he has for us today. All our favorite things!"

"Oooh!" squealed Hermione. "I haven't had éclairs like these since I went on Holiday in France before fourth year! Oh, they're _wonderful_!"

The group had quite a jolly breakfast before they returned upstairs to put on their school robes. Dumbledore had previously arranged for them to all take a Port Key right onto platform 9 ¾ . He figured this to be the safest route, next to taking a Port Key directly into his office. Having the foresight from Mrs. Weasley that the latter option might arouse suspicion amongst the other students when they didn't see Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on the train the Headmaster selected the current plan.

By 10:15, the group was waiting in the living room holding onto their luggage. Harry had collapsed his Phoenix's stand and let his new pet go on ahead without him. Even still, with four trunks, two owls, two cats and all their supplies they had quite a lot to carry. Mrs. Weasley came bustling in, pulling on her cloak as she checked them all over.

"Have you got everything, dears?"

"Yes, mum!" they chorused.

She smiled, and then frowned. "Ronald! You have dirt on your nose! Come here, let me get it off for you."

"MUM!" cried Ron, furiously. "I am 16 years old! Honestly, GERROFF!"

A few minutes wresting resulted in Mrs. Weasley pretending to give up, then whipping out her wand and shouting 'Scourgify!' at the entire group.

"Argh! MUM!" cried Ron.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny just laughed, even though they, too, had been hit by the cleaning charm. With pink faces, they all managed to grab onto the scarf the Headmaster had charmed into a Port Key, and at the stroke of 10:30, they were whisked away to platform 9 ¾.

After repeated hugs and goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley, the group tromped onto the train to find an empty compartment. Since the Port Key had brought them so early, they had no problem getting one of the best compartments to themselves. The group settled themselves in and talked for a spell while the rest of the students showed up. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom soon joined their compartment. Not long after the train began to move, the Prefects (now including not only Ginny, but Luna as well) left Harry and Neville alone in the compartment together so they could attend the Prefect meeting.

"So did you ever get a new wand, Neville?" asked Harry, recalling what had happened to Neville's previous one in the Department of Mysteries.

Neville smiled proudly and drew out a brand new mahogany wand.

"Yup. Brand new- just got it last week. Mahogany, 12 inches, with dragon heartstring core. Nice, huh?"

Harry smiled appreciatively. "How was your birthday, Neville? I never got to really thank you for coming to mine."

The boy that once could have shared Harry's fate grinned. "It was great! My Uncle Algie bought me a new plant and Gran said she would pay for my wand."

Neville paused, and then decided that he couldn't contain himself from asking. "What was with the wool socks that Professor Dumbledore sent along with Professor McGonagall at your birthday? A little odd, even for Dumbledore, don't you think?"

Harry grinned. "Well, you know Dumbledore. Always a little wonky, but brilliant. I think he and Snape collaborated on a gift that arrived a few weeks later though."

"SNAPE got you a birthday present? No way, Harry."

Harry shrugged, and decided to continue on with an explanation. He could trust Neville, and he thought that maybe Neville hearing about the Phoenix might lessen his fear of the crooked-nosed Professor.

"Well, I was wandering around Grimmauld Place one night when I couldn't sleep and I went into the Library. I found a small package there waiting for me with my name on."

"No way! What was it?"

"That's the thing. I don't think Snape could have gotten it without Dumbledore's help- that's why I thought they might have gotten it for me together."

Neville looked confused as to what could possibly be so difficult to acquire.

"It was a Phoenix," Harry explained.

"A WHAT!"

"A Phoenix," he repeated. "She's gorgeous- I'll show her to you once we get to school. She's green with some gold feathers."

"Wow. I think you're right. It takes a really powerful wizard to be able to tame a Phoenix. I know Dumbledore has one. Maybe Snape got the idea from that, and decided to ask Dumbledore to help him get one for you."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. She's beautiful, though. Who knows, maybe potions won't be so bad this year after all."

"You PASSED the potions OWL?"

"Um, yeah. Didn't you?"

"Well, yes. But not good enough to get into NEWT potions. Not that I'd want to, anyway, I'm going to concentrate on Herbology. I know that kind of goes along with potions, but McGonagall said that if I didn't want to continue that I needn't."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I understand. Two more years with Snape is not something I'm really looking that much forward to, although I don't think it will be as bad this year. I think Snape and I have just seemed to find something like a… mutual respect for one another."

"Wow, Harry. That's really great. So what did you name her?"

"Name who?"

"The Phoenix."

Harry blushed. "Well, see, that's been a bit of a problem. I can't seem to think of anything. I got Hedwig's name out of one of my books before first year. But all the names in there just don't seem to fit a Phoenix."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Harry. It will come to you. I'll let you know if I hear of anything good, though."

"Thanks, Neville. So… um, you and Ginny are really close, right?"

"Sure, Harry. Have been since fourth year, really. She's always been so nice to me. Her and Hermione both."

"Yeah… Neville? Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Harry," Neville replied, somewhat confusedly.

"Um, well, I uh… I don't really know how to say this, Nev."

"Well, you can tell me another time, if you want Harry."

Harry shook his head, and swallowed, as if trying to force down his nervousness.

"Well, Neville, um. Promise you won't say anything, all right? Especially to Ginny?"

"Sure, Harry. What is it? Are you all right?"

"Yeah… It's just… well, no. I'm not. Look, Neville, just promise me that if anything were to ever happen to me that you'll be there for Gin. You know, like, take care of her. Check up on her once in awhile."

Neville cocked and eyebrow at Harry, and elected not to question the rather morbid request his friend had just asked of him. "Sure, Harry. Of course I will. I'll always be there for Ginny."

He paused. "Is there something else, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, deciding that he had said enough.

"No. Just that. I just worry, you know? I mean, Hermione has Ron, but for Gin it's different. Ron's her brother so it's not the same. She'll need someone around if… well, you know what I mean."

Neville nodded, knowingly. "Of course, Harry. You can always count on me."

"Thanks, Neville."

Silently, they changed into their robes, and waited for the rest of the group to return from the Prefect's meeting. They didn't have long. Just as the witch with the lunch trolley was coming up the corridor, the Prefects returned looking rather exasperated.

"Ah, good! Food! I'm starving!" cried Ron, grabbing all he could afford off the trolley. Harry brushed him aside to pay for everything that the group had selected.

Hermione, Luna and Neville thanked him graciously, while Ron and Ginny turned as red as the school radishes. Harry just shrugged as the Lunch Witch rolled out of sight.

"Oh come on, you guys!" cried Harry, pressing more cakes and candies upon them. "What better use do I have for it?"

Ron shrugged, and decided to give up. He had been a friend with Harry for too long to try and argue. Ginny on the other hand, just mumbled 'I really wish you wouldn't, Harry.' But she sat down all the same and began to eat.

"Um, so what happened at the meeting?" asked Neville, changing the subject with a grateful smile from Harry.

Hermione snorted, Ginny sniffed, and Ron just shook his head and continued to stuff his face with Pumpkin Pasties. The two dark haired boys turned to Luna, who was delicately cutting her Cauldron Cake with a fork and knife before placing it in her mouth.

"Well, Dumbledore had a _lovely_ idea," she said dreamily, eyes wide. "He decided that all the sixth years would be paired up with incoming first years for a set amount of time per week to be something like 'mentors' to them."

Harry smiled. He didn't see what was so bad about that. In fact, he thought it to be quite genius. If the incoming firsties were to be paired with the older, more knowledgeable, students then they would not only do better in their lessons, but the older students could monitor their behavior and make sure that none of them were leaning to the Dark Side.

"Oh. That sounds nice," said Neville. "So what are we supposed to do with them?"

"Oh you know," continued Luna, airily, still cutting her Cauldron Cake into bite size pieces, "just make sure they're doing good in their lessons, keeping up with work. Make sure that they're not going to have a nervous breakdown, you know. Give them insight and 'tricks of the trade' about how Hogwarts works."

Neville squeaked, "How am I supposed to help a kid with POTIONS! I stink at it!"

"That's where the Goblet comes in."

Harry choked. This 'Goblet' sounded all too much like the Goblet of Fire, and he had no desire to go through anything related to the likes of the TriWazard tournament again.

"G-g-goblet?" he sputtered.

Hermione sniffed, and answered for Luna as she had just eaten a bite of Cake. "Yes. Goblet. Not the Goblet of Fire, Harry, but a new one."

Harry felt himself relax slightly. If it wasn't the Goblet of Fire, it couldn't be completely awful, could it?

"It's supposed to match you up with the first year to which you will be the most helpful to," explained Ginny, "this way you won't get stuck with a kid that needs help in a subject like potions if it's something you're bad at."

Neville sighed with relief. "Oh good, so I should get someone that's awful at Herbology, right?"

"Maybe," said Ron, after brushing the last of a Pumpkin Pastie off his robes. "I think it might go deeper than that, though."

"Deeper?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"Yeah. It might not pair you with someone that needs help in a subject you're good at, but it could be something like… um, something like 'inner wuggle' or something."

Hermione snorted. "Not WUGGLE, Ron, STRUGGLE. Inner Struggle."

"Oh. Right. Struggle. Sure. …You gonna eat that, 'Mione?"

Hermione sighed, and passed Ron what was left of her éclair. Harry still didn't see what she and Ginny were so upset about.

"So what's wrong with this 'mentor' thing? It sounds like a good idea. I mean, if we're with the first years all the time we can keep an eye on them. Make sure they're not falling behind in classes."

Hermione sniffed, and Ginny snorted.

"Okay then, more specifically, we can make sure that the first years aren't leaning towards the Dark Arts. We have no idea what they might have already been taught at home- it will be easier to fix if we catch it straight off."

Hermione harrumphed, "Yeah, a fabulous idea, Harry. Pairing up someone like MALFOY with an impressionable first year. Bloody brilliant."

"Exactly!" chimed Ginny. "And why can't fifth years do it, too? Why don't they give you guys second years and us the first years?"

"Um, call me crazy," interjected Neville thoughtfully, "but I think that with OWLs being this year for you that you'll have way too much work to do to have to worry about extra quality time being spent with some first year."

"All right then, but what about the seventh years?" she retorted, obviously not pleased that she had been unable to see this reason.

"Well, I suppose they're all concentrating on their NEWTs, aren't they? They probably wouldn't have time, either."

"Oh," muttered Ginny disappointedly, realizing the obvious logic she had missed.

"Hmm… maybe it will cause for more inner house unity, though?" pondered Harry. "And that's something you really want, isn't it, 'Mione?"

His friend sighed, realizing defeat. "Yeah. I suppose you're right, Harry. Will someone pass me a chocolate frog, please?"

Neville tossed her one over Luna's head, who was now completely lost inside an upside down copy of "The Quibbler." Harry, Ron and Neville silently mused about what type of first year student they might be paired up with, when they were suddenly distracted by a rather loud squeak followed by a choking sound coming from the no longer bushy-haired girl sitting by the window.

"You all right, 'Mione?" asked Ron, concernedly, patting her lightly on the back.

"Um, yes!" she choked, in a high, unnatural voice.

"Leave it to Hermione to choke on chocolate, something all girls love! Most of them would rather choke on books, but not our 'Mione," joked Harry.

Hermione forced a laugh, "Um, yes. Of course. Chocolate. All girls love. Ha. Um, right."

The occupants of the compartment stared at their friend who was looking completely frazzled, not at all her usual composed self.

"Ginny, Luna, would you like to come to the toilette with me?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows, while Luna drawled that she really didn't need to go, not once looking up from "The Quibbler". Hermione and Ginny rose to leave the compartment, when Harry caught a glimpse of the Chocolate Frog card still in her hard.

'_Accio_!' he thought to himself, and the card found itself torn from Hermione's grip and in his hand.

"Harry! Give it back!" cried Hermione desperately, attempting to steal it from him.

Harry shook his head, and stood to hold the card out of the girls' reach. Luna looked up from her magazine.

"Oh, Harry, are you doing wandless magic? That's very good," she spoke breathily.

"WHAT!" cried Neville. "You can do wandless magic! Harry, that's amazing!"

Harry cringed, still attempting to fight off Hermione and Ginny from taking the Chocolate Frog card back.

"Yes. But that doesn't leave this compartment, all right?"

Neville nodded dumbly, while Luna just dismissed it with the wave of her hand. Ron just sat looking confused- Hermione had never really been one to collect Chocolate Frog cards. He didn't really understand why she was putting up such a fuss about one- she didn't even know which ones were the most valuable.

Hermione and Ginny gave up, and sat back down, out of breath. Apparently, they no longer had to use the toilette, if they had even needed to in the first place. Hermione bit her lip, and Ginny cringed. She wasn't entirely sure why her best friend hadn't wanted Harry to see that card, but she was sure that Hermione must have had a very good reason for it.

Harry turned the card over to see what all the fuss had been about. Had they possibly gotten Ptolemy? Harry knew that this was the most rare card out. What he saw nearly made his heart stop. On the front was _his_ _own_ picture; blushing sheepishly back at him, before it shrugged its shoulders and ran shyly out of the frame. Turning it over, he read the description on the back aloud, his face growing redder with each word.

_Harry James Potter_

_Currently a Student at Hogwarts_

_Known to many as "The Boy Who Lived", Harry is most famous for his preliminary triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in 1981. Potter is also recognized for delaying the return of the same Dark Wizard in June of 1992 (shortly after his initial return to the Wizarding World in 1991), and again in 1993. Harry is the youngest wizard ever to produce a corporeal Patronus Charm, and in doing so saving the life of not only his best friend, Hermione Granger but his Godfather, the recently cleared (and recently late), Sirius Black. In 1995, Harry competed in and became champion of the newly re-instated TriWizard Tournament. Potter is also commended for his never-ending work for Justice in our World. Harry enjoys the sport of Quidditch, at which he plays the position of Seeker._

Harry looked up; finding every pair of eyes in the room was staring back at him. He focused in on Hermione, who just stared back and shrugged, unable to say anything. They sat, transfixed, unnoticing the door that was sliding open to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

"Ah," drawled Malfoy, with his ever present trademark sneer. "I see you've started collecting your own chocolate frog cards, Potty. Could your head possibly get any bigger? Honestly, and I thought that any bigger and you'd need your own train to get to Hogwarts."

Harry just shook his head and sighed, so as to deter Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and (surprisingly) Luna, who had already stood and unsheathed their wands.

"I have no idea how this happened, Malfoy. And if you honestly think that I would be _happy_ about something like this than you really have no clue as to how I work.

"Here," he said, offering the card to Draco, "you can take it and do whatever you want with it. If you leave it here, I'm just going to burn it."

The Slytherin's jaw dropped slightly, and he turned and walked away down the corridor, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"_Lacarnem Inflamore_," muttered Harry, coldly, and the card burst into flame before crumpling into ashes on the floor.

Ginny pointed her wand at the ashes on the floor. "Scourgify," she said, and the mess disappeared.

Hermione twisted her hands, "Um, well, we must be nearly there. Shall we grab our cloaks?"

"Sure," muttered Harry. "Let's go, before Malfoy comes back and decides to act normal for him and try to hex us, instead of like a rational human being."

Silently, the group fastened their cloaks under their chins and waited by the door of the train so they could be the first off when it came to a stop. Together, they smashed into a carriage and let Hedwig and Pig fly to the owlery ahead of them. Harry attached a note to Hedwig's leg for her to take to Dumbledore, asking to arrange a meeting so he could talk with him after the feast about the Chocolate Frog Card incident.

The journey from Hogsmeade station to Hogwarts in the carriage was a joyful one, as people kept tickling one another and stepping on each other's feet from the lack of space. Once they had arrived at the castle, Harry was sufficiently cheered up. They headed to the feast, anxiously awaiting their first year 'mentee' assignments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Welcoming Feast and Mentor Assignments**

Laughing, the group tromped up the stairs into the Great Hall. Luna left them there to join the Ravenclaw table. Much to Harry's surprise, she sat near Cho Chang, who was sporting not only her Tornados Quidditch pin, but a shiny new "Head Girl" badge as well. Harry smiled to himself, and winked at Ron. He hoped that being Head Girl might make her happier, and maybe she wouldn't cry so much this year if she had new responsibilities to worry about. Harry didn't think that even someone like Cho would cry in front of the first years if she had the Head Girl position to live up to.

Ron had gotten smarter this year, as well, and had put numerous snacks in the inside pockets of his robes so he could munch on them while the sorting commenced. Not long after they had finally sat down (they greeted friends across the hall first, and Harry even went over to congratulate Cho, who smiled and said thank you, not a trace of tears on her face), the first years walked in with bated breath, afraid of what might lie ahead. Harry could remember all too well what had been running through his head when he was first sorted: that quite possibly, the hat might just tell him there had been a mistake, and maybe he should just go back home.

Grinning to himself, and trying to smile encouragingly to the first years that passed, Harry leaned against the table and wondered which one he would be paired up with. Focusing on Dumbledore, he got a nod, which to him meant that the Headmaster must have received his note, and agreed to the meeting Harry had requested for after the feast.

Professor McGonagall entered with the first years and brought them to the front of the hall. She placed the sorting hat on its stool, and patiently waited for it to begin its customary song.

_Oh many things have come and gone_

_Since Hogwarts first was started_

_Fads and traditions came and went,_

_Many friends arrived and parted._

_My job is to sort you all,_

_And I am here again_

_To divide you up, all into quarters,_

_And hope you make new friends._

_In Ravenclaw you might just find_

_Someone to give insight,_

_While Hufflepuff they will helpfully show you_

_How to do work right._

_Gryffindor house is brave, it's true,_

_And can last in any weather_

_While Slytherins are sly and cunning,_

_Working apart, yet still together._

_Now listen you hard_

_And listen you good_

_That though I divide you_

_Like I ought to and should,_

_Fear not to wander,_

_Worry not, and roam_

_For in our other houses_

_You may find second home._

_Though each one is noble,_

_And to your own be true_

_Seal other, outside friendships,_

_Stick together like glue._

_In your head _

_Lies more than you think_

_You learn not just_

_Through paper and ink._

_So put me on, _

_And I'll place you true_

_I know you'll be happy,_

_And welcome to you!_

The brim closed itself, and Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, as if to say '_Well that was interesting._' She nodded, and shrugged, as if to confirm that she could find nothing wrong with the hat's song. No encrypted messages- just to be true to yourself, and make friends in other houses. It seemed that the hat only furthered their suspicions that this year Hogwarts seemed to be all about inter house unity. Professor McGonagall began to speak, so they refocused their attention upon her.

"As you know, the Hat will sort you into your houses. Once it has finished, I ask all first years to put their name and new house on a piece of parchment and drop it into the blue goblet. Thank you for your attention."

They turned briefly to view the blue goblet. Harry noticed it seemed to be made of Sapphire, and it sparkled in the candlelight. McGonagall turned to her list, and called out the first name, "Abercrombie, Everett."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and the rest of the sixth years seemed especially eager to see the sorting ceremony this term, as they would be spending a lot of extra time with these first years. At the Gryffindor table, the lot made a game of it, trying to guess which houses the first years would be sorted into, and who they might get as their 'mentee'. McGonagall worked her way through the list, and each new student in turn dropped his or her name and house into the blue goblet, which smoked briefly after each bit of parchment. When she had called out the last name ("Zabini, Margaret"), they applauded respectfully along with the rest of the hall. After Zabini, Margaret dropped her name and house (Slytherin, of course) into the blue goblet and sat down in between Malfoy and her older brother, Dumbledore rose from the Head Table.

"There is a time for speechmaking, and—" he guestured and smiled to the student body, who chorused '_this is not it!_'

"Ah, I see you at least remember something after the holidays! I do have a few words for you, would anyone care to guess?"

Some of the older students laughed, and joined along with the Headmaster when he stated 'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak!'

"Thank you!" he added, and sat down to begin loading his plate with peppermint humbugs. Once again, Harry turned away these, but passed the potatoes down the line to "Bartleby, Emmeline" when she asked for them. Once they were all sufficiently stuffed and the chatter began to elevate, the Headmaster rose once again, and began to voice the speech that they had heard all too many times before. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville all mouthed along with him the parts they had memorized, but paid fierce attention to the new bits of information.

"Welcome, welcome, one and all to Hogwarts!" smiled Albus, nodding to the first years. "As some of you may know, we have a newly instated program here at Hogwarts. All sixth year students will be paired with a first year student by an impartial judge. These students are to spend time with one another throughout the year, and are expected to learn from one another in various ways. The judge will decide who shall be with whom based on certain predetermined stipulations. A more detailed description of the Mentor Program shall be delivered to all participating students before the week is over.

"Mr. Filch has informed me that the list containing some odd five hundred forbidden items has been posted on his office door. He has asked that all students check it periodically throughout the term for any changes, and to remember that magic is not allowed in the corridors between classes.

"As most of you know, or should I say, as some of you continue to _choose_ to forget, the forbidden forest it out of bounds for all students.

"I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Bertram Luenebraum. I wish you all the luck in the world, Professor, and hope it will be a joyful year for you!"

Harry applauded politely with the rest of the hall, and couldn't help but take notice of the Professor's extraordinary appearance. He didn't have much time to take it all in, though, because Dumbledore had started speaking again.

"I estimate that the goblets need a few more minutes before they make their decisions as to who will be placed with whom. Mr. Filch, will you please bring in the black goblet?"

Argus Filch, once again sporting his mouldy tailcoat, limped up the aisle carrying a black goblet made of Onyx and handed it to Dumbledore.

"The names of each sixth year student have previously been added to the black goblet, and will be shot out in turn along with their first year counterpart from the blue goblet. I ask that everyone please hold all comments and applause till the last two names have been paired. When your name is called, I also ask you to stand and recognize your new mentor, or mentee, whichever is appropriate.

"As I stated before, you will receive further instructions as to the exact itinerary of the program later this week, along with the name of your partner, should you have forgotten already.

"Ah, I do believe that the judges are ready to begin, so will you all listen sharply?"

Dumbledore moved out from behind the head table and stood next to the Onyx goblet while McGonagall stood by the Sapphire.

"Now," he chuckled, as the goblets flashed and sparked before them, "let's hope that the pairs don't mix like oil and water, as the color of these goblets might imply."

Hermione giggled at the expression, as did some of the other Muggle-borns, and those that were half and half. Ron looked puzzled, but even he registered that now was not the time for questions.

Patiently, they waited while the names were spat out in what seemed to be a random order. Neville's name came up first of their closest friends.

"Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor," read Dumbledore, and Neville stood up nervously, gazing around the hall looking for his 'partner'.

The blue goblet spat out a name, and McGonagall read it aloud.

"Ruby Lauraline, Gryffindor."

Neville smiled down the table at the small, blonde haired girl that waved nervously back at him.

"She doesn't look like too much trouble, do you think, Ginny?" he asked, nervously.

Ginny smiled encouragingly at him. "No. I think she looks sweet, Neville. I wonder who everyone else will get?"

She didn't have long to wait. Three more names were called, and the Professor Dumbledore read "Hermione Granger, Gryffindor." Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat and looked frantically around to see whom her mentee would be.

"Maddelein Roseworth, Ravenclaw."

Hermione and her new mentee waved at one another. Harry couldn't help but notice that Maddelein had hair that was quite similar to what Hermione's had looked like back in her first year- extremely bushy- only black.

Six more sets of names were called. Seamus Finnigan was paired with a mousey haired boy named Patrick O'Donovan from Hufflepuff, and Dean Thomas with Alex Creevey, who had just joined his older brothers in Gryffindor.

"Draco Malfoy, Slytherin."

"Oh, I hope he gets a Muggle Born," muttered Ron. "That would teach him!"

Hermione looked horror-struck. "Oh Ron! That could turn out awful though, don't you think? The poor first year!"

Hermione hid her face in he hands while Ron shrugged, and Harry looked thoughtful. The blue goblet seemed to be taking an extra long time finding an underclassman for Malfoy. Finally, out flew a bit of parchment, and Professor McGonagall read,

"Aurelia Formosus, Hufflepuff."

Aurelia stood, straight backed and strong, although Harry thought he could see apprehension behind her eyes. Hermione's worst fears were confirmed- she must have been a Muggle born- because Draco sneered at her, and Draco Malfoy, of all people, would know if her surname was of wizard descent or not. Harry pulled on the sleeve of Hermione's robes, trying to get her to look up.

"'Mione, look! I think the Ferret's met his match!"

Hermione looked up just in time to see that Aurellia Formosus had smirked right back at Draco and stuck her tongue out at him, before sitting down and tossing her hair nonchalantly behind her, as if being sneered down at by the noted "Prince of Slytherin" meant nothing to her. Harry turned to Hermione, and saw she had a malicious glint behind her eyes.

"Ooh, Harry. I think you might be right. That girl's got spunk. I like her!"

Dumbledore reading another piece of parchment interrupted their musings.

"Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor."

Ron stood, and nervously tried to straighten his robes. Gazing around the hall, his eyes seemed drawn to a small, nervous looking boy that was sitting at another table. He groaned.

"Oh no. I think I found mine. Don't even read it, McGonagall. He's right there."

"Where?" asked Hermione, craning her neck trying to see who Ron was looking at.

"Maximillian Curalium, Hufflepuff."

Maximillian Curalium stood, and Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Neville immediately saw why Ron had noticed him. Not only did Maximillian have flaming red hair, he also had impeccably mussed, faded robes and dirt on his nose. Ron raised his hand in a salute to his new first year companion and returned to his seat.

"Aw, Ron!" cooed Ginny and Hermione. "He's so cute! He looks just like you did first year!"

"Don't remind me, okay?"

Harry laughed, "Don't worry mate. He's got you around now. I'm sure he'll turn out all right. And you can teach him that cleaning charm so he can get the dirt off his nose."

"Thanks, mate," laughed Ron, taking a Cauldron Cake out of his pocket. "Want some?"

"Sure! Thanks."

But just as Harry had gotten the cake to his mouth, he heard Dumbledore call out-

"Harry Potter, Gryffindor."

He stood up slowly, and nervously tried to flatten his hair, although he knew it would do no good. The entire hall had just heard his name announced, so if they didn't know what he looked like before, by now they would. Besides the fact that his picture had appeared in the "Daily Prophet" at least a hundred times that summer, along with numerous articles, Harry's fame had grown ever steadily since the clearing of Sirius Black and the revelation of the fact that Lord Voldemort had, indeed, risen again.

The blue goblet seemed to take even longer to pick a match for him than it did for Malfoy. Finally, after what seemed like ages and Harry's face was sufficiently red from everyone staring at him and whispering, the first years' goblet spat out a bit of parchment.

"Luke Vitiosus, Slytherin."

Harry looked towards the Slytherin table, towards Luke Vitiosus, and grimaced inwardly. He was like a miniature Malfoy, pale, blonde, and glaring at him as if to say 'What did I do to deserve this?' Harry smiled, and nodded at the first year, before sitting down again to the Cauldron Cake Ron had given him.

"Eh, well," he sighed, after receiving pitying looks from all his friends- clearly they thought that Luke looked like an unpleasant bloke as well, "we couldn't have all gotten good ones, right?"

His friends shrugged, and soon the placement was over. Ginny led the first years up to Gryffindor Tower along with Colin Creevey, the other new Gryffindor Prefect. Hermione, Neville and Ron headed up some secluded shortcuts to the tower and told Harry they would wait for him there after his meeting with Dumbledore.

Purposefully, Harry strode up to the head table and waited for the Headmaster to notice him. Surprisingly, this did not take long.

"Ah, Mr. Potter? You wanted to have a word, then?"

"Yes, Sir. If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course, shall we adjourn, then?"

Together, Harry and Albus made their way to the Headmaster's office. Upon reaching the Gargoyle, Albus paused, looked around him, and said,

"Skiving Snackbox."

At that, Harry's jaw dropped nearly to the floor. The Gargoyle, meanwhile, sprang aside as usual.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The First Meeting**

"Your password is 'skiving snackbox'?" Harry choked, stifling a severe urge to snort with laughter.

Dumbledore shrugged. "Yes, well, Minerva didn't really understand it, but I'm sure if she did she would dislike it even more than she already does."

Harry chortled all the way up to the Headmaster's office, where Albus pointed him to a squishy armchair opposite his desk.

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?"

"Um, well, sir, there's quite a few things, really. I honestly don't know where to begin."

"I see. Would you like a lemon drop? I find they sometimes help me to gather my thoughts."

"Oh, yes, sir, thank you, I—"

Harry stopped mid sentence, upon realization of what the Headmaster had just offered him.

"You eat lemon drops, sir? But they're a Muggle sweet!"

Dumbledore shrugged innocently. "Ah, well, Muggles certainly have a few good tricks up their sleeves, if you'll pardon the pun."

Harry shook his head, smiled considerately at how the Headmaster never ceased to surprise him, and sucked on the lemon drop thoughtfully. He decided that after the night's events that he couldn't bring himself to mention the Prophecy and what he and Hermione had talked about. Crunching the sweet into pieces and swallowing, Harry carefully selected his words to describe his feelings about being put on the back of a Chocolate Frog card.

"Um, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"So I've noticed that you like Muggle sweets, but do you ever eat Wizard Candy?"

"Oh yes, I have my little stash. I'm sure you heard last year when I was… shall we say, _booted_ from the Wizengamot-- that I didn't care if they stripped me of my Order of Merlin as long as they—"

"Didn't take your name off the Chocolate Frog Cards!" Harry finished for him, sighing with relief. "So Bill Weasley wasn't lying then, was he?"

Dumbledore smiled bemusedly. "No, Mr. Potter, he wasn't. I do rather enjoy a good Chocolate Frog from time to time. I was rather lucky once, and happened to get a Ptolemy card. They're quite rare, I've heard. I do also enjoy Acid Pops."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, they Ptolemy cards are rare. Ron's been looking for one for ages."

"Has he now? Does he have Morgana? I might be willing to trade!"

But Harry wasn't to be side tracked.

"Sir," he said, preparing to take the blunt route. He thought it might be best to speak directly, as the Headmaster seemed to be easily sidetracked- especially on the subject of sweets.

"Sir, I've been put on the Chocolate Frog cards."

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to drop his jaw. "Have you now! Harry, that's wonderful! I must admit, I'm quite sur—"

Dumbledore paused at the hurt and confused look on his protégé's face. "Ah, I see you are… not pleased?"

"No. Not at all!" cried Harry, exasperatedly, glad that he could finally get it off his chest. "This is the last thing I need! Malfoy got one of my cards today and came to take the Mickey out of me on the train!"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow into his wizard's hat. "Did he? What happened? What did you do?"

"I told him that if he thought having my photo on the back of a Chocolate Frog card was something I'd get off on then he had no idea what makes me tick.

"I offered to let him have the card Hermione had gotten and do with it whatever he liked. I told him that if he left it with me that I was just going to burn it."

Dumbledore's cocked eyebrow now disappeared completely into his hat. "And what did he do, Harry?"

"He walked away. He didn't take the card, either."

"Well, then. It appears that our young Mr. Malfoy has indeed learned a thing or two over the summer."

Harry searched at the Headmaster's expression, as if looking for a hidden meaning.

"Maybe…"

Harry decided not to question Albus at this point in time. He knew that if there was something imperative about Malfoy that he should know then the Headmaster would undoubtedly tell him when he thought the time was right.

"But sir?" he continued back to the original subject at hand. "What can I do? I don't think that I can just tell them to take my name off. Besides- if I did, then the ones already in circulation would just become more valuable and it would probably just get worse!"

"That's a fair deduction, Harry. I really don't know what to tell you about this one. I guess the only advice I can offer is to just take it as it is- a compliment."

Harry snorted, "A _compliment_? Half the things listed on the back I did with other people! And some of them weren't even credited! Like the part about the Philosopher's Stone! It doesn't say it directly, it just talks about how I "delayed his return to power" or something, but it doesn't mention how there was no way I could have done it without Ron and Hermione's help! And don't even get me started on the TriWizard Tournament! They didn't even _mention_ Cedric!"

Dumbledore sucked on a lemon drop, and pondered for a minute before replying. "Well, Harry, I suppose you could always owl the company and have them change it. But then that just goes back to your other reason of the ones already in circulation becoming more 'valuable' in the trade market."

Harry shrugged, and helped himself to another candy. "I guess so. But to me it's worth it so Cedric, Ron and Hermione can get their credit as well. Do you think I should tell Ron and Hermione that I'm going to write the company?"

Dumbledore sighed, and reflected. "I suppose it doesn't really matter, in the end. Sooner or later they will find the card or someone will show it to them, so they'll find out anyway."

"I guess you're right. I'll let them find out on their own. I don't want to embarrass Ron."

"A wise decision. Very noble, as well, Harry."

Dumbledore grabbed another candy, and paused.

"May I ask you what you did with the card Miss Granger found?"

"Burned it."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, making his scar disappear underneath his Wizard's Hat.

"Did you really?"

"I told Malfoy that's what I would do with it because I was so angry at the time. After the fact, it seemed like a really good idea so I did it anyway. I don't regret it. I'll probably burn all the ones I get. Either that or just swear off Chocolate Frogs all together."

Dumbledore laughed. "That's too bad, Harry. Chocolate Frogs really are delicious... Besides, _I_ would have liked to have one."

"Oh _shut up_, Professor!" cried Harry, laughing and throwing a lemon drop at him.

Albus laughed along with him, and shrugged. "Well, can you blame me? I have an inside scoop now, and I collect. You're going to write the companies to have them change the card, and so the one currently on the market will be _exceptionally_ valuable. Why **wouldn't** I want one?"

Harry chuckled, "Well, Professor, I suppose if I find one instead of burning it I'll let you have it. But after that, I'm burning the rest."

Dumbledore shrugged, "Suit yourself, Harry. But just remember- it's supposed to be a compliment."

"I'll try, sir. Really, I will. But that one's going to be hard. At least I don't think I'll have to worry about the Ferret teasing me about them."

"That's true, Harry. And may I commend you for keeping your temper with him this afternoon on the train. I don't think you could have handled it any better."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Dumbledore paused, reflecting on what had just been said.

"Harry, did you just refer to Draco Malfoy as 'the Ferret'?"

Harry blushed, and grinned.

"Yes, sir. Sorry. It's just something that Hermione, Ron and I have called him ever since fourth year when Professor Moody—well, the imposter Professor Moody, any way—transfigured him into a ferret for trying to hex me behind my back."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Ah. I see. Well, I suppose I've heard worse. I imagine he has names for yourself, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley as well, am I correct?"

Harry groaned, "Don't remind me."

Albus grinned, and then searched Harry's expression.

"Is there anything else you'd like to talk with me about, Harry?" he inquired carefully.

Once again, Harry had that strange feeling that the Headmaster could see right through him. Forcing himself to remember the techniques Snape had taught him in Occlumency, Harry attempted to empty his mind of all thought and emotion. Staring straight back at the Headmaster, Harry saw that he was smiling.

"I see you've been practicing your Occlumency, Harry?"

"Yes. …And I do have other things I need to talk with you about, just not now. I still have some thinking to do on those."

The Headmaster nodded. "I understand. Whenever you're ready, Harry, you know where I live."

Harry smiled, "And as do you know where I live, sir, whenever you're ready."

Dumbledore blushed, and looked to the ground, but not before glancing nervously at the tapestry on his wall.

"All in good time, dear boy, all in good time. But at this particular time, I'm sure there are some that are waiting for your return to your common room."

"Yes, sir, they are. And thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Any time, Harry. I know you won't abuse the privilege."

Harry nodded his head, and grabbed a lemon drop for the way back to Gryffindor common room.

"Oh, Sir?" he asked, turning around.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know anything about what's going to happen with my Firebolt? I mean, if Umbridge walked out of the ministry she surely can't keep up me and the Weasley's life-long Quidditch ban, can she?"

Albus smiled. "No, Harry. I don't believe she can. I'll have to check on that for you with Professor McGonagall, though, before I answer anything as to your broom."

"Thank you, Professor. Good night."

Once again, Harry turned and began to walk towards the door.

"Oh, Harry?" called Albus.

"Yes, Professor?"

"How are things with your new pet? Did you find a name for her? I was curious."

Now it was Harry's turn to blush. "No, sir. I seem to be having difficulty with that one."

Dumbledore smiled knowingly.

"Ah, no need to worry, Mr. Potter. Fawkes was nameless for nearly two months before I found something that we both agreed on. I tired many other names, but he wouldn't respond to them. I may be able to bring in Phoenixes from the wild, but coming up with names is quite another thing."

He laughed, and added, "As you can tell from my name, this is not a dilemma that I inherited from my parents. They had no trouble coming up with names. I have four."

Harry grinned, and then his smile faded with realization.

"Sir! I never sent Professor Snape a thank you note for the gift. Do you think it's too late?"

Albus smiled, "No, Harry, I don't think it's ever too late for a thank you. It may not be necessary in this case, but I'm sure it would be appreciated all the same."

"Thanks. I'll have to send one along. Good night, Professor. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a swish of his cloak, Harry turned and walked down the spiral staircase out of sight. Once the door had closed, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape came out from another room hidden behind a tapestry on the wall to the right of the Headmaster's desk.

"What do you think, Minerva?" asked Albus.

Professor McGonagall smiled, while all it seemed Severus could do was scowl.

"I think he's ready," voiced Minerva.

"Severus?"

The hook nosed man sniffed. "I see no sense in keeping it from him any longer. But I can't believe that he hasn't even named the bird yet. Honestly!"

Minerva and Albus laughed.

"Well, Severus," giggled McGonagall, "I guess he is just taking it very seriously. He wants to make sure it's absolutely perfect."

Snape sniffed once again, "I hope you're right, Minerva. I certainly wouldn't want a Phoenix to be christened with a name like 'Pookey' for all eternity."

Albus chuckled, "Now what's wrong with Pookey, Severus? I named my first teddy bear that."

Severus choked, although it could have been on the lemon drop he had just swallowed, and not the comment the Headmaster had made.

"Well, I have to say that it's certainly not as creative as 'the Ferret'. I don't know if I'll be able to look at Mr. Malfoy quite the same any more."

Minerva laughed, "I can only imagine what Draco has come up with for Harry and Ron."

Severus shook his head, "Honestly, I really don't think you want to know."

"Either way, I think he's ready," offered McGonagall, switching back to the original topic. "All we need to do is decide when to tell him."

"Ah, well I imagine as soon as possible, since it shall be starting next month!" said Albus, as if it were obvious.

Minerva cringed, and Severus groaned.

"Headmaster," he asked, confusedly, "I thought we were talking about the _other_ thing?"

"Oh the _other_ thing? Ah. Yes. I suppose you're right about that, too, Severus."

"Well, then, Albus, when do you think we should explain to him about the _other_ thing?" asked Minerva.

"You know, as to that I am not entirely sure. I imagine it will be soon. We shall have to see, then, shan't we?"

With that, the other two teachers adjourned from the office. After seeing them to the door and then closing it behind them, Albus sighed.

"Well, Fawkes, it looks as if things just keep getting more and more complicated don't they?"

Fawkes' only answer was a small trill. Albus smiled, and stroked the bird's maroon and gold plumage,

"Well spoken, my dear Fawkes, as always."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The First Term Begins**

The next morning Harry arose with the rest of the sixth year boys' dormitory to his Phoenix flashing into the middle of the room.

"Woah!" cried Dean. "What on earth is that?"

"It's Harry's Phoenix," supplied Neville. "Wow, she really is gorgeous, Harry!"

"What's her name?" asked Seamus.

Harry blushed, stroking his pet's back, "I haven't picked one yet."

The morning was spent rattling off possible names as they headed down to breakfast.

"Emerald?"

"Snitch?"

"How about just plain 'Phoenix'?"

Harry shook his head at all the suggestions. Nothing seemed to fit. Together they walked down to breakfast in the Great Hall. Hermione and Ginny joined them not long after. Ginny immediately reached for the tea (she liked hers vanilla, with sugar and milk, just like her mother) and Hermione for her coin purse to pay the owl that delivered her morning copy of "The Daily Prophet".

Mail arrived at the usual time- Neville's grandmother had sent him some of the usual things he forgot.

"Wool socks?" he muttered. "Honestly, what is it this year with everyone and wool socks?"

He placed them in his bag, shaking his head and helping himself to some kippers. Harry hadn't bothered to look up, and thus was surprised when Hedwig nudged his elbow.

"Oh! Good morning, Hedwig! What have you got for me?"

Hedwig dropped a letter in Harry's lap, and proceeded to eat some bacon from Harry's plate before she flew off back to the Owlery. Harry opened the letter, and nearly dropped his orange juice goblet.

_Mr. Potter,_

_I am pleased to inform you that your Quidditch ban has been lifted (as per Mr. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic). Your broom will be delivered to you sometime later this week._

_All the best,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Wordlessly, he passed the letter to Ron. Ginny read it over his shoulder, and when they finished they both let out whoops that were loud enough to turn half the heads in the Great Hall.

"That's great, mate! Now you can be back on the team!" cried Ron.

"And _I_ don't have to play Seeker any more! I can try out for Chaser!" echoed Ginny.

Hermione smiled. "I'm happy for you Harry. You must have missed your broom."

She just didn't have the heart to drop the bomb to her three "Quidditch-Obsessed" friends that Dumbledore had not made his customary comments during his welcoming speech the night before about when Quidditch try-outs would be. Hermione knew it would hurt them entirely too much to think that there was a possibility that Quidditch might be postponed or cancelled.

_But there's no need to be rid of it this term…_ she pondered, her forehead wrinkling as she pushed her porridge around in its bowl. _Surely Dumbledore would have said if it were cancelled, wouldn't he? _

…_Of course he would,_ she reprimanded herself, sternly. _He probably just forgot last night, will all the things to talk about with the new mentor program…that must be it._

Harry grinned stupidly. He couldn't believe it. Later this week he would be back in the air, flying on his Firebolt. He couldn't wait.

"New timetables, everyone!" called Katie Bell, passing down the sixth years' new class schedules.

Hermione passed out everyone's and they all compared. Harry and his closest friends were all together this morning for Double Herbology. In the afternoon Neville went off with Dean and Seamus for Care of Magical Creatures while Harry, Ron and Hermione traveled down to the dungeons for Potions. Harry glanced at his timetable- it looked like he wouldn't be able to do any in depth analyses of Professor Luenebraum until Wednesday.

After breakfast the group departed and headed out to the Greenhouses for Herbology. Their number had decreased dramatically, although they figured that this would be one of their largest NEWT classes. Professor Sprout had them working in groups inside Greenhouse Four, which housed some of the most interesting plants they had ever seen. After a quick wash, and administering a Venemous Tentactula antidote to Dean Thomas, they headed back into the Castle for lunch and then down to the Dungeons for Double Potions.

"Ugh- I can't BELIEVE I'm willingly taking Snape again!" moaned Ron.

"Oh Ron," pfutted Hermione, "you know you're going to need it! Especially if you want to be an Auror!"

Still, Ron's groans did not subside after they had taken their seats in the Dungeon. Harry took a desk to himself while Ron and Hermione sat at the one next to him. He was rather curious as to what Potions would be like this year- especially after he and Snape had come to their understanding. Unpacking his kit and placing it neatly on the empty desk beside him, Harry spread himself out, enjoying the lack of students that had decided to continue with Potions that year. Looking around him, Harry took in who his classmates were. There were a few from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw that he didn't know, and he was pleased to see that Crabbe and Goyle had not made the cut.

"Hang on…" he whispered. "Hey Hermione, where's Malfoy? You would think _he_ of all people would be in here!"

Hermione and Ron shrugged and Snape swept through the dungeon with his usual scowl. Slamming the door behind him, he waved his wand and instructions appeared on the blackboard.

"Well," he sneered, "let's see who made it into NEWT Potions. Miss Greengrass, it's no surprise to see you, likewise Miss Parkinson." He nodded toward the two Slytherin girls, who grinned smugly.

"Mr. Weasley, it IS a surprise to see you. And you, Mr. Fortitude, dust mine eyes deceive me? Well, we shall see, shan't we? Ah, Miss Granger…"

He paused, and Harry eyed him skeptically, wondering what he would say next, while Hermione straightened her back and glared at him defiantly. Professor Snape glanced Harry's way, and then stared roughly back at Hermione.

"Well, Miss Granger, I wonder how much better you will do this year without having to worry about hissing instructions in Mr. Longbottom's ear to insure he doesn't blow you up with the atrocity that he calls a 'potion'?"

Snape then turned, and focused his attention on Harry.

"Ah, Mr. Potter—I see that your fame clearly—"

There was a sudden crash, and a very unkempt looking Draco Malfoy came skidding through the door, preventing Snape from finishing his sentence- much to Harry's relief, and also, what suspiciously looked to him to be Snape's relief as well.

"So nice of you to grace us with your presence, Mr. Malfoy. Kindly take a seat next to—ah, well, it seems that the only remaining seat is next to Mr. Potter. Let's hope you two can play nicely together."

Harry groaned inwardly to himself, but grudgingly moved his things so Draco could sit next to him. Turning to his arch nemesis and smiling sweetly, Harry simpered,

"Looks like he thinks sitting next to me is punishment enough, Malfoy, so he didn't dock you any points for being late."

"Sod off, Potter."

Malfoy was clearly distressed, and Harry couldn't help but be pleased to see him in such a state. Waving off the sympathetic looks he was receiving from Ron and Hermione for being partnered with someone as insufferable as Draco Malfoy, the 'Prince of Slytherin', Harry focused his attention to the board, and then realized why his friends were giving him such looks of pity. There, for all to see, in Snape's loopy handwriting was scribed:

"_Greet the person next to you- they will be your partner for the remainder of the term."_

Harry and Draco looked at each other, horrified, and neither bothered to hide their groans of distaste. Harry threw his head back, as if offering a plea to the unseen Potion Gods to put him out of his misery, and Malfoy banged his head on the desk.

"Don't fuck up, Potter," Draco whispered snidely, after lifting his head and straightening his normally perfect blonde tresses. "I won't have your idiocy failing me."

"Dream on, Malfoy," Harry retorted through gritted teeth. "The only reason you're in here is because you're Snape's sodding lap dog."

Malfoy stood up, drawing his wand, upsetting his chair and Harry's potion ingredients,

"Say that again, Potter. _I dare you_."

"I _said_," replied Harry calmly, vanishing his spilled ingredients and the shards of glass, "that the only reason you made it into this class is because you're _Professor_ Snape's lap dog."

Harry glanced up, to find his Potions instructor nearly breathing down both of their necks.

"_If_ you two don't mind, I am trying to instruct a class. Now, you can either attempt to control your tempers, _sit down_ and finish the lesson in relative silence, or you will _both_ be serving detention with me."

Malfoy returned to his seat, while Harry shrugged in the direction of Hermione and Ron. Evidently, they couldn't believe that they had only been reprimanded, and not sent out immediately. Snape returned to the front of the room, and changed the instructions on the board.

"The Draught of Delirium. Begin. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, you will see me after class."

Harry reviewed the instructions on the board, and got up to gather the ingredients from the cupboard. Passing them silently to Malfoy behind him, they returned to their seats and began chopping, slicing, dicing, stewing, stirring and boiling accordingly. Working together quite efficiently, though never talking (they opted to use a sign language of their own when they needed the other to pass them something), Harry and Draco were the first to finish their Delirium Draught.

Harry gave Draco the vial to take to Professor Snape's desk, and remained behind to vanish their remaining potion and clean up the ingredients, making sure to put all of them in the proper owner's case- the last thing he needed was to have to search out the Prince of Slytherin outside of class to get back his Spine of Lionfish. Ron and Hermione left, promising Harry that they would save him a seat and some of his favorite treacle tart for dinner.

Shuffling his feet, Harry approached the desk of the Potions Master where Draco was waiting. Snape eyed them both, and Harry could almost see the wheels turning in his head before he initially spoke.

"Understand this, _both of you_. This is NEWT Potions, and I will not have any… _shenanigans_ like today interrupting my class any longer.

"Now. You can either both learn to appreciate each other and get along, or you will BOTH be removed from this class, and not come back. The Headmaster has taken many new steps to insure that there be more "Inter House Unity" this year, and I will not have two of his most promising students mucking it up."

Harry stared blankly, while Malfoy just grinned smugly.

'_Did Snape actually refer to me as one of the most 'promising students'? After all, it had been a quote from the Headmaster, but surely Snape wouldn't have said it if he didn't believe it to hold at least some merit.'_

Snape coughed, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

"You two shall remain partners for the remainder of the year, and I expect that you will set an example for the rest of the students. And… dare I even mention, _possibly_ learn to understand and (Merlin forbid) actually accept one another.

"Let me warn you now- any more outbursts from _either of you_ in this class will result in a detention specially designed by myself that will most thoroughly punish you.

"Now, for the time being, _get out of my sight_."

Harry and Draco left the dungeons and both went their separate ways. Harry went straight to the Great Hall to find Ron and Hermione awaiting him anxiously.

"Did you get in trouble?" asked Hermione, perched nervously on the edge of her seat.

"No. Not really. I mean, not unless you count having to be Malfoy's Potions Partner for the rest of the year being in trouble."

Hermione visibly relaxed, "That's not so bad!"

"I wouldn't speak too soon if I were you, 'Mione," sighed Ron. "This could turn out bad. Pass the sausages, will you?"

Harry nodded, passing Ron the plate of smoked sausage.

Hermione didn't seem satisfied, though.

"Honestly, though, Harry. I mean, aren't you shocked that you got away so quickly? I'm surprised Snape didn't give you and Malfoy both detention, even though Malfoy's his favorite student. The way Professor Snape normally acts…"

Harry nodded. "I know, 'Mione. You would think that he would just jump headlong into a cage of Cornish Pixies to even have the chance at punishing me, even if it meant his lap dog would be in trouble, too."

"Exactly," she agreed, taking the liberty of filling not only her own, but Harry and Ron's goblets of pumpkin juice. "I wonder what's made him act so strangely? I mean, even last year with…" she lowered her voice significantly, "with the Order and all, he still was awful to us."

"Yeah, mate!" chimed Ron, his mouth full of sausage. "All those times with the Occlu--".

Hermione gave him a reproving look, and he immediately chewed laboriously and swallowed before continuing. He was rewarded with a smile and a peck on the cheek from the brunette sitting next to him. Apparently Hermione had finally plucked up the courage to tell Ron just how unbecoming (and annoying) it was when he talked with his mouth full.

"Sorry, 'Mione. I'm doing better, though."

"Yes, you are."

"And we ALL appreciate it!" added Ginny, plopping down next to Harry, dropping her heavy load of books on the floor before grabbing a plate and filling it to the brim.

"Long day, Gin?" asked Harry, kindly.

"You have no idea- I can't BELIEVE how many of the Professors spent at least twenty minutes lecturing about how important OWLs are! As if we didn't know!"

Harry and Ron laughed, while Hermione just sympathized with the Professors.

"But they are!" she cried.

"I know!" howled Ginny. "But honestly- at least they could try to make their lectures fun! Why not give us crazy examples of how other students broke out in Snaggle-Bumps when they got too stressed? At least then we could laugh off some of the seriousness!"

They laughed, and Harry filled Ginny's goblet from the pitcher of Pumpkin Juice Hermione passed him.

"Thanks, Harry."

"So what were you saying, Ron? About Occlumency?" Harry asked, helping himself to a piece of his favorite treacle tart.

"Oh yeah! Well, I mean, he was always horrid to you during your lessons last year! What made him change all of a sudden?"

Harry was immediately sorry he had asked. He wasn't entirely sure if his friends were ready to hear about what Snape had seen in his Pensieve the evening of his birthday last summer. Harry was terrified that it would just send them into waves of sympathy about how the Dursley's treated him and how seeing it would have an effect on Snape's attitude toward the Boy-Who-Lived. Worst of all, Harry thought they (especially Hermione, who wasn't the brightest witch of the age for nothing) might deduce WHY it would have an effect on their Potions Master. Attempting to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters, Harry pressed forward.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Right before he dismissed us, he said that if anything happens again like what happened today that we would have a detention that was… how did he say it? _"Specially Designed"_ by himself to make sure that we were punished thoroughly enough."

Ginny turned to Harry, her face worried. "Do I even WANT to know what happened in your potions class today?"

"Harry and Malfoy got into a little tiff, Ginny, after they discovered that they're to be partners for the rest of the year," explained Hermione. "That's really all. But think about it- have any of us EVER seen Malfoy that frazzled? When he came in late- he looked like he had just run a marathon!"

Ron and Ginny looked as thought they were about to ask what a 'marathon' was, but Harry cut them off.

"I did notice. He seemed… off. Like his nerves were shot, or that something was wrong."

"Exactly," Hermione cried, while pondering which dessert to take. She eventually decided on a large piece of chocolate cake. "I mean, his face was absolutely pink, his hair was mussed- and we never see that- and when he found out you were going to be partners, he actually reacted! **Visibly**!"

"Smacked his head right on the desk!" Ron illustrated to Ginny, smacking his hand down on the table with a loud 'thud'. Pausing for a second, Ron then turned to Hermione.

"Well, Hermione, you certainly seem to be paying a lot of attention to the little Ferret, don't you?" he teased.

Harry thought he saw the briefest flash of color rise in his friend's cheeks, but loyally said nothing, and thanked Merlin that Ginny and Ron were both too busy with their food to notice it. He knew that Ginny's eyebrows would raise questions on her brother's behalf, and that Ron was bound to pitch a fit. Harry had noticed that the past summer- that whenever an altercation seemed about to arise, Ron suddenly became visibly upset, and a lot more emotional than he used to. Harry wanted to ask about it, but wasn't all too sure on how to approach the issue without embarrassing Ron. He didn't have much time to reflect on his suspicion, though, because Hermione, if anything really _had_ made her blushing instinct react, recovered immediately.

"Oh, honestly, Ron. It's not like it was hard to miss! Pass the whipped cream, will you?"

Ron obliged, while Ginny turned to Harry. "So, if you two have another row, no matter how small or insignificant, then Snape is going to give you both a 'specially designed' detention together?"

Harry nodded grimly, stabbing his fork at the crumbs of his treacle tart.

Ron blanched, sausage half way to his mouth. "Man, mate, I don't even want to THINK about what that twisted freak could come up with!"

Harry groaned, "Me either… pass the pudding."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Crossing Boundaries**

"Mentor assignments, everyone!" called Katie Bell cheerfully at breakfast Thursday morning.

"Honestly, Harry, that one you got sure looks like a bowl of raunchy porridge."

Harry glared. "Thanks for reminding me, Kate. I'll send him your love."

Katie shrugged and handed the three of them their in depth overviews. Silently, they began to read.

_The Hogwarts Mentor/Mentee Program_

_Congratulations on being a part of the first ever "Hogwarts Mentor/Mentee" Program. The purpose of this new program is to help establish a more united student body, as well as to insure that all new incoming students have sufficient guidance in these new, troubled times. Should any new students have problems with classes, homework, other students etc. they should not feel anxious about seeking out their assigned mentor for guidance!_

_All sixth year students are to be assigned to a first year student, and spend no less than two (2) hours per week with their assigned partner. It is hoped that you will be able to learn many things from one another this year! These hours can be spent studying, talking, playing games- use your imagination! You and your partner have been chosen for each other, and are best suited for one another for many reasons!_

_Our older students will do well to remember that when times get rough, seeking the company of a younger student can be calming and helpful. This is also good practice for remembering rudimentary spells and theories for your upcoming NEWT examinations next year…_

Harry found he didn't feel like reading much more. He got the basic points of the program- he had to spend at least two hours a week with this "Luke Vitiosus" bloke, doing whatever they felt necessary. As much as Harry wasn't looking forward to it (the scathing look his first year partner had given him across the hall only affirmed his suspicions that he was a 'Malfoy Junior'), he agreed that there needed to be more unity amongst the four houses.

_Besides_, nagged a small voice (sounding uncannily like Hermione) in the back of his brain, _if he is potential Death Eater material, you should be the first to know and set him right!_

Another two weeks passed, and Harry had yet to organize time with his "mentee" to fulfill the required two hours a week. Every time he had attempted to approach the young Slytherin, he seemed to suddenly disappear. It was the second Thursday of term, and he had no idea what he was going to do about his dilemma. After repeated harping from Hermione, Harry still was about to give up. If Luke wasn't going to nark to his Head of House that Harry hadn't been spending time with him, Harry had no plan of telling McGonagall, either. As far as the Boy-Who-Lived was concerned, it was two more hours a week that he could spend doing something enjoyable- like Quidditch.

Which brought up another sore spot- neither Dumbledore, nor McGonagall, had spoken to him, or any of the other beloved broomstick-toting school players about the year's Quidditch season. Harry had received his Firebolt the Saturday morning previous, having been brought to him by his new Phoenix in the wee hours of the morning. He, Ron and Ginny had even convinced Hermione to come with them on an afternoon fly this coming Saturday, the day of her birthday. With any luck they could get a few other people to come out with them, and have a go with Madam Hooch's set of Quidditch balls for fun.

This also had the benefit of keeping Hermione out of the common room while the rest of Gryffindor Tower's occupants set up for her surprise birthday party that he, Ron and Ginny had planned. Neville was organizing it all, and making sure everything went according to schedule. They had asked him if he would have liked to join them for a fly, but he declined. Harry shrugged, figuring that the memory of his broken arm in first year at flying lessons was still a little too painful for him to just hop back on a broom.

A glare from the Slytherin side of the Great Hall brought Harry out of his reverie. Sighing, he smiled at Luke, who was sitting a little too close to Malfoy for Harry's comfort, and turned back to his dinner. He and Malfoy had just barely kept their tempers in potions the past two weeks, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't last much longer.

'_One more crack about my mother, and he's seriously going to get it, and I won't bother making it look like an accident,'_ Harry thought bitterly, shoving a roll into his mouth.

Having a good fly and Hermione's birthday party on Saturday were the only things getting him through the week at this point. Dunking another roll into his tomato soup, Harry frowned. His head was beginning to ache again. It was the third time in the past week (and the tenth in the past two), and it seemed to be getting steadily worse. His Occlumency had so far prevented any major attacks, but this headache was the worst yet, and he wasn't so sure he'd get off easily this time. A reassuring pat on his arm came from Ginny next to him, while a concerned glance from Hermione was shot his way across the table. Harry chanced a look over to his best friend- expecting to find him in complete concentration over his lunch- only to be surprised that Ron was giving him an even more concerned stare than Hermione.

Harry groaned inwardly- he hoped that the pain wouldn't rise to a state where he would have to run out of the Great Hall like he did the week before. Unfortunately, fate didn't seem to be favoring Harry at this point- his headache was worsening. If Ron had noticed he looked off-color, then there MUST be something amiss. But was there? This was another thing of the many that Harry had noticed in the past week- Ron seemed to be a lot more concerned about him than ever before, and seemed extremely sensitive when Harry's head began to ache, as if he was afraid that Harry might suddenly drop in a faint on the spot.

Yes, it was true; Ron had certainly been acting off lately… off, that is, for Ron Weasley any way. Harry knew that Ron had been sleeping about as frequently as he was lately, frequently being not really at all. Only this past Monday they had gotten their first Charms essay back, and Ron had gotten an A- acceptable- something Harry was quite proud of him for. As soon as old Flitwick had dismissed them, Ron had run from the third floor classroom all the way up to the seventh floor Gryffindor common room without stopping, Harry tailing him the whole way.

Upon entering the common room, Harry just saw Ron's robes whip out of sight into their dormitory, before he followed him up, and opened the door silently. Ron was there, sitting on the middle of his four-poster, the curtains only partially closed, and he was smiling. Smiling- and crying- at the same time. Harry had never known his best friend to cry over a BAD grade, let alone a good one, and so he silently walked back down the staircase into the common room to wait for Hermione. When he confronted her about it, Hermione had only bit her lip, shook her head, and told Harry that it 'wasn't her secret to tell'. Harry had searched her eyes inquiringly, but had resisted using Legilimency on her. After all, she was his best friend. He couldn't- he _wouldn't_- invade her privacy like that. Shrugging, he just asked her to mention it to Ron that he was concerned, but understood if the redhead didn't want to talk about it just yet. Harry recalled all too painfully how he had never wanted to share the Prophecy with them, and how long it had taken him to work up the nerve. When Ron felt the time was right, Harry would know. He was sure of it.

Shaken from his reminiscing by a rather painful twinge in his forehead, Harry clapped a hand to his head, as if he might be able to swat the infernal fly that was forever biting his skin. Taking his hand away, and attempting a sheepish smile at his worried friends, he saw them staring back at him in horror. Harry didn't have to ask what had frightened them. Looking down at the hand he had just removed from his forehead, he saw the reason- it was covered in blood. Gingerly, he touched a tentative finger to the scar on his forehead, only to pull it back immediately, feeling as though it had just been scalded.

Clenching his teeth, Harry braced himself, for what he knew was coming. He only hoped he could make it out of the Great Hall before he fainted. He had barely made it the last time. Attempting to rise, his legs gave way, and he clucked back into his seat. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville, who had also noticed the situation, all jumped up from the table as one. Ron and Neville grabbed each of Harry's arms, while Hermione and Ginny grabbed everyone's bags and books. In a rush of adrenaline, the two boys managed to lift the third clean out of his seat and walk hastily out of the hall, looking as though they were just walking with linked arms to turn in a late assignment they had all forgotten. Ginny and Hermione followed closely behind, feigning calmness. As soon as they cleared the doors (without too much attention being attracted, Hermione noticed thankfully), they paused for a brief second, to see if Harry was all right. Ginny bit her lip, praying to whatever Deity that existed for Harry to be honest, and not try to put up a brave front.

"Harry, are you all right?" whispered Ron, not wanting to attract any notice from people that might be leaving the hall early.

Meanwhile, Neville, in a stroke of brilliance whipped his hat from the bag Hermione had grabbed for him, and shoved it firmly onto Harry's head. Ginny stared, but Neville shrugged.

"The pressure might help stop the blood."

Ginny nodded and turned to Harry, who was breathing shallowly.

"Harry, love? Are you ok?"

The raven-haired boy attempted to catch his breath, and speak. He was unsuccessful- the only syllables they could make out were 'tal' and 'ble'. Ginny nodded.

"Ron, Neville," she ordered calmly, "take Harry to the hospital wing. Hermione, take the bags. I'm going to get Dumbledore."

The three nodded like obedient soldiers, and raced off as fast as they possibly could without making a scene. It was only when Ginny reached the Gargoyle, panting, that she realized she didn't know the password to the Headmaster's office. Cursing, she impatiently brushed her hair out of her face, wondering what she could possibly do.

"Fuck!" she cried, her eyes brimming with tears. How could the Headmaster be gone at a time like this? She had never seen Harry as bad as this before.

"Dumbledore, where the hell ARE you!"

"And what, pray tell," hissed a deep voice, "would upset a Weasley so much to use such colorful language? Especially the _female_ Weasley?"

Ginny turned, gasping with what was surprisingly relief to find Professor Severus Snape standing before her.

"Professor, please!" she cried. "It's Harry! His scar again! This time it's bleeding! He barely made it out of the Hall, and that was with Neville and Ron carrying him!"

Snape's eyebrows raised in unmistakable surprise. "The Headmaster is not here, Miss Weasley. He had to head to the Ministry to finalize the paperwork on Umbridge."

Ginny bit her tongue forcefully- she had almost sworn again- and whimpered at the Professor that was her only hope. She was torn. Next to Dumbledore, she knew Snape was the one that could most likely find a potion to help Harry, or a reason as to what was wrong in the first place. The only drawback- she honestly couldn't stand the man. She had no reason to trust him, even if the Headmaster did. Heart won over mind, though, and though Ginny couldn't speak, she could certainly act.

Grabbing the Professor's hand, she raced down the corridor, through two secret hallways hidden behind tapestries, and to the Hospital Wing's door. The Potions Professor was gasping the entire way behind her, apparently too shocked to cry out at what she had done. Pulling him through the door, she dragged him to Harry's bedside, earning shocked gasps from not only Hermione, Ron and Neville, but the school nurse as well.

"What do you make of this, Professor? I've never seen anything like it before," asked Poppy Pomfrey, as she waved her wand over Harry's forehead, looking for signs of damage.

Severus Snape said nothing at first, but then looked down at Ginny and the other three students, who were kneeling around the boy's bedside, whispering comforting words to him.

"Please move, Miss Weasley, Miss Granger."

They simply stared at him in shock.

"I said, please MOVE. If you want me to help Mr. Potter, I need you to move out of my way."

As if they had been cracked with a whip, all four students cleared from Harry's bedside and moved to the foot. Harry's head had congealed blood on it, although thanks to Neville's quick thinking and his hat, it was no longer bleeding freely. Not bothering to sterilize Harry or himself, the Potions Professor placed a hand on the boy's forehead. Madam Pomfrey continued her examination to look for any normal causes of damage, and the students stared on. A minute passed in what felt like an eternity, and Snape suddenly let go, his face furrowing into an expression of the utmost concentration.

Robes billowing dramatically behind him he strode purposefully to the fireplace, threw in a handful of glittering floo powder, and disappeared. Almost as instantly as he left, he reappeared with five different bottles of potions in his arms. Whipping out his wand, he conjured a cauldron, lit a flame and began mixing furiously. Smoke and sparks billowed and flashed, until all that was left was a shocking green mixture.

"Granger! Flask this!"

Hermione obediently conjured enough glass bottles to encase the remaining potion, but watched, awed, as Snape walked over to her best friend, carefully sat him up, and gently worked a flask down his throat.

"Come on, Potter," he said, softly, "drink up."

Sputtering and coughing, Harry suddenly awoke, gasping for air and clinging to the Professor's black robes, and staring at him as if trying to see the depths of his soul.

"P-pro-professor!" he cried, still clinging to the Potions Master's chest.

"Yes, Potter," Snape replied briskly. "I'm a Professor, and don't you ever forget it."

Ron couldn't be too sure, but he could have sworn he saw a smile pulling at the corners of Snape's mouth. Snape struggled to stand up, but Harry wasn't letting go.

"Professor," he whispered, "he knows."

Snape's expression changed instantaneously.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"He knows there's a traitor in his ranks. He doesn't know who, but he knows. Oh, sir- what if—sir, what if he?

Snape raised his head in affirmation, and Ron saw what was definitely a smile on his lips.

"I see. Well, the Headmaster's plan is working then."

Every occupant of the hospital wing gaped at him, as if they had suddenly been turned into fish out of water. Hermione blanched- how could Snape be so calm?

"Let's just say that our attempt to feed false information is working. I shall say no more. Rest assured, Mr. Potter, I am in no more danger now than before you lost consciousness.

"The flasks that Miss Granger has filled will remain here for you, should you ever need them again. I would let you take them with you, but I know what you and your foolish Gryffindor pride would do with them."

"He would take them if he needed them, or he would throw them out, but then he wouldn't tell the Headmaster, or Madam Pomfrey," supplied Neville. "He would keep it to himself."

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, and Neville clasped a hand over his mouth, as if he couldn't believe what he had just said.

"Quite right, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, stiffly, and then rose to leave the wing. "You should be fine to leave, Harry. …That is, as soon as Madam Pomfrey will let you out of her sight."

Harry nodded at the Professor, and thanked him with his mind, hoping against hope that Snape was reading it again at that time. Snape nodded, and turned to leave the ward when he suddenly lost his breath, as none other than Ginny Weasley was tightly squeezing it out of him. She hugged him tight, with tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, sir. You have no idea how frightened I was. Thank you so much for taking care of him."

Snape's jaw wasn't the only one in the room that dropped, and he stared blankly at the small redhead that was clinging to him in an embrace as though they were long separated friends. His eyes widened in shock, before his facial expression turned to its normal passive state. Awkwardly, he patted her with one arm on the back, and then gently pried her off. Regaining his stiff composure, he stared stonily down at her.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley, for deliberately crossing over the Professor/Student relationship boundaries."

Ginny shrugged, "It doesn't matter, sir. Harry's all right- YOU'RE all right- you're safe from Volde—" Snape twitched—"You-Know-Who," Ginny corrected herself quickly, to spare the Professor from anguish. "You're safe, and that's worth five points any day."

Snape's face visibly softened, and the right corner of his mouth rose ever so slightly in a half smile.

"In that case, Miss Weasley, twenty points to Gryffindor."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, smiling all the while.

"For deliberately crossing over the undrawn boundary lines between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and trusting me."

In one graceful, fluid movement, he turned and was gone.

"Wow," whispered Neville. "I guess now I understand why he gave you that Phoenix. I didn't believe it before, but now I do, Harry."

Hermione and Ginny raised their eyebrows questioningly at Harry, as if asking why he hadn't told him where the present had come from. Harry could only shrug, but apparently they seemed to get the message- that they wouldn't have believed him any way, if he had told them.

"It was a lovely gift Harry," said Hermione, nodding her approval at his unspoken reason.

Ginny nodded, rumpling his hair. "You're right, though, Harry, as much as I hate to admit it. We never would have believed you."

Ron scoffed, attracting their attention. "Oh come on- that's not half as weird as other stuff he's done!"

Everyone turned to look at him, even Madam Pomfrey, who paused in her final examination of Harry.

"What are you talking about, mate?" Harry asked.

"He said PLEASE."

"What!"

"When he asked Ginny and Hermione to get out of his way- he said 'Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, please move'."

"No way."

"Way. He also called you HARRY. Didn't anybody notice that? Not 'Mr. Potter', or 'Potter', or 'Our New Celebrity'—but HARRY."

Harry grinned, and Hermione pecked Ron on the cheek.

"You're right, Ron. He did. That is pretty amazing."

Ron laughed. "Yeah- AND he gave Ginny twenty points to Gryffindor!"

They howled with laughter, Madam Pomfrey included.

"Well," Ginny giggled, "fifteen really, after the five he knocked off, but still. Points are points!"

Madam Pomfrey reluctantly dismissed them all, giving Harry strict instructions to go straight to bed, and come back immediately if anything felt amiss.

"After all," she warned, "the only reason I'm letting you leave at all is because Professor Snape assured me that you would be all right. You come straight back here if you feel even so much as a mosquito bite of pain, do you understand me, Mr. Potter?"

After profusely reassuring her that he did, the five headed up to Gryffindor Tower.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Hermione's Birthday**

Saturday arrived and everything was going as planned. The weather was good for an afternoon fly, Hermione suspected nothing, and the gift Ginny had ordered had arrived by Eagle Owl that morning at breakfast to Parvati Patil (who pocketed it with a wink, and took it upstairs to the common room). After breakfast, everyone headed up to Gryffindor Tower to finish up any remaining homework, seeing as it was Hermione's birthday, and they knew it would make her happy. Other than that, they had the added bonus of having all night and all day Sunday to party for their best friend's birthday.

Harry carefully rolled up his Transfiguration essay, and put it into his bag. Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly time for lunch, and he was famished. Clearly, by the way Ron's stomach was growling he wasn't the only one. With a smile and a nod from Hermione as she rolled up her parchment (she didn't even comment that it was at least 6 inches longer than Professor McGonagall had asked for), they all rose and headed for lunch. A reassuring grin from Neville, Parvati and Lavender showed that everything was right on schedule as far as the party was concerned. Dean Thomas winked at Ginny- they had been drawing some banners in secret together over the past week to post in the common room. Although Harry didn't know what they were all going to say, he did know that Ron had suggested "Hermione for Hogwarts Head Girl!" for one of them.

A hasty lunch, and Ron finally succeeded in dragging his girlfriend outside, onto the Quidditch pitch, and next to a broom. Seeing everyone laughing and having such a good time was refreshing- Harry didn't know how much longer they would have like this together, with only one year left at school. A few loop-the-loops and Harry was feeling right at home on his Firebolt. A snitch that had been retrieved from the broom shed raced around the pitch, Harry and Ginny close on its wings. There was only one thing amiss, and that was Hermione seemed to be having the least fun out of everyone.

Harry beckoned Ron to the ground, and after a few hushed words, they called Hermione over. Slowly, she lowered her broom and stepped off it, looking thankful that her feet were firmly on the ground.

"Having fun, 'Mione?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Oh yes!" she smiled, and Harry was sure it looked genuine. "I'm just not much of a flyer, I'll admit. It's all right, I suppose, but being on a broom just feels a little scary. There's just so little to hold onto!"

Harry and Ron grinned at one another- this is what they had hoped she would say.

"Here," Harry offered, "let me put this away for you. Of course you don't feel just right on a rickety old school broom. You need something better. Try taking my Firebolt out for a spin."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"No way Harry! You LOVE that broom! And you've only just got it back, and… and—Harry, that's a RACING broom. There's no way I could control it!"

Ron grinned, "That's where I come in, 'Mione. I'm coming, too. We can ride on it together, and then you'll have lots to hold onto."

"Really? You're sure it's safe?"

"Definitely!" Harry broke in, pressing the broom into her hands. "Besides, Ron knows what will happen to him if he hurts you- OR my broom!"

"Pounded into a pulp!" Ron supplied, illustrating by slamming one fist into his other hand. "I promise I'll only go as high and as fast as you want, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip, but Harry could see the excitement behind her eyes.

"All right. But not too high, Ron!"

Harry grinned as his two best friends rode off together, Hermione's hands grasped firmly to the broom, and Ron's even more firmly around her waist as they headed off into the sunset. Calling everybody else down, they headed their way up to Gryffindor common room to help finish setting up. Ron knew to fly Hermione through the tower window on Harry's signal- a box of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes finest firworks- being set off from the astronomy tower. He had gotten special permission from the Headmaster to set them off from there, and he knew Hermione would love it.

Ron's broom in hand, Harry headed towards the kitchens while the rest of his friends traipsed to the seventh floor. He had notified Dobby of Hermione's party the first week of term, to make sure the elf would have enough time to make snacks, since they had all planned on missing dinner that evening. He had also let McGonagall know, that way she wouldn't be worried, and she had agreed as long as he promised to have the party stopped by eleven o'clock.

"I don't want any more riots following after the Weasley twins, Potter. I don't think my heart can take it."

But he was sure that there was the slightest smile behind her stern words, and so he promised that he would even make sure that all first through third years were in bed by that time, too. As he thanked her and prepared to leave her office, she called out for him to wait for a minute.

"Here, Potter. I think Miss Granger might appreciate this. Let her know she can give it back when she's done- it's from my personal library."

It was a book on Animagi, and training techniques to become one. Harry smiled once more, and could have sworn he saw the Professor wink at him.

"Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes Professor?"

"As long as I don't hear you, Potter, I don't know you're up. Are we clear?"

Harry grinned, "Crystal clear, Ma'am."

Upon opening the kitchen door, Harry was greeted by a storm of elves, with Dobby as the ringleader.

"Oh, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is so pleased you is here! Now we elves can bring Miss Grangey her food, sir!"

Harry's heart nearly stopped when he saw what the elves had prepared for them. There was even a card thanking Hermione for letting them 'cater' her birthday party. Harry knew she would appreciate that the most- she still didn't like the thought of 'over-worked' house elves.

Back in the common room, everything was just about ready. Hermione's first year partner, Maddelein Roseworth had even sent a small gift with her friend, Emmeline Bartleby, being too shy to deliver it herself. Ginny bounded over and kissed Harry on the cheek.

"Everything's ready, Harry! Are you going to set off the fireworks soon?"

Harry grinned, "Yup. Aren't you coming with me?"

"All the way to the astronomy tower? But Harry, I want to see her reaction!"

Harry smiled, and kissed her forehead. "You think I want to miss it? I've still got Ron's broom, see?" He held it up. "I'm going to fly up there, set them off, and then come back through the window. We should be back long before Ron and Hermione are. I'm sure she'll want to watch for awhile."

Ginny grinned. "Oh, Harry! You really do think of everything, don't you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Gin. WE think of everything. All of us together, and there's nothing we can't do."

Turning to the whole of Gryffindor Tower, Harry yelled, "Are we ready?"

A check was made all around the room- presents, food, banners, and most importantly, friends. Colin Creevey unlatched the window, and Harry and Ginny flew out of it towards the astronomy tower. A whispered incantation, and they could see the fuse begin to diminish towards the Blaze Box. Sending Ron's broom into a steep dive, and earning a shriek of joy from Ginny, Harry sped off back to Gryffindor tower, hearing the first cracker explode behind him. Back through the window, a quick nip up to the sixth year boy's dormitory to put Ron's broom away, and he was back next to Ginny before she had even noticed he had gone.

While the fireworks went underway, so did the party. People began eating, drinking and dancing while still looking towards the window from time to time for any sign of the guest of honor. Ten minutes after the last cracker drifted by the window, there was a squeak from a second year- 'they're coming, they're coming!'- and everyone turned to wait. Ron was now on the front of the broom, with Hermione pink-cheeked and smiling behind him. Through the window they flew, and the broom waited at waist height for Ron to dismount and then help Hermione down. She seemed completely oblivious to what was waiting for her beyond the window seat.

"Um, 'Mione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Look."

Hermione turned, and as one, the whole of Gryffindor tower shouted "SURPRISE!" Now that Hermione was here, the party got back in full swing, people hugging her, and wishing her a happy birthday all around the room. When she was finally able to make her way over to where Ron, Ginny and Harry were standing, she had tears in her eyes.

"Did you do this?" she squeaked.

Harry nodded. "All of us did- Neville organized people to help decorate the common room with Parvati. Dean and Ginny drew the banners. Everyone helped."

Hermione burst into tears, and threw herself into Harry's arms, sobbing.

"You guys are the best friends a girl could ask for!"

Ron and Ginny joined in the hug, and then they finally convinced Hermione to go and join the party with the rest of them. It seemed just like a regular party, but to Harry it seemed just a little more special. It wasn't for Quidditch, and it wasn't for the Cup. It was for his best friend. And she deserved the best party of all.

Pulling away, she admonished, "And whose idea was it for the 'Hermione for Head Girl' banner? And what about the 'Granger's Got it All' one? Honestly!"

Ron grinned. "The Head Girl one was me, 'Mione."

"And what's wrong with the 'Granger's Got it All' banner?" asked Ginny, pretending to be offended. "I made that one up, and Dean drew it."

Hermione giggled. "Well, that explains it then."

"Explains what?" asked Harry, reaching for a butter beer.

"Why I'm drawn the way I am. All those books- I don't even TAKE Muggle Studies any more, and half of those subjects don't even exist at Hogwarts. You'd have to be top circle at the Ministry's Think Tank to get your hands on books like those!"

"Oh, come on, 'Mione!" cried Ginny, exasperated, missing the smirk behind her best friend's rant.

"And besides… My boobs certainly are NOT that big!"

Harry and Ginny doubled over in fits of laughter, while Ron looked like he was debating between laughing and killing Dean Thomas. Fortunately, he chose laughter.

Music wafted around the room, and everyone danced- even the birthday girl. Parvati and Lavender had conjured a crown for her to wear, and Ginny enchanted it to sparkle in the lighting. As eleven o'clock came closer, Harry found they didn't have a hard time sending the first through third years to bed- most of them had gone already. Many of the fourth years headed up as well, and soon there was only a decent sized group milling around. Ron pulled Hermione to the corner, and she began to open her presents- birthday tiara still shimmering in the night.

First was a brightly wrapped parcel from Ginny- the one that had been delivered to Parvati that very morning- a brand new book titled Apparation: At Its Easiest. Hermione grinned and hugged it to her chest. Harry laughed at the thought of her reading it by wandlight under her comforter after she went to bed that evening. Second was a small gift card from all the Gryffindor sixth year girls- containing a gift certificate to Madam Malkins- so she could get dress robes for job interviews.

Several more packages made their way through Hermione's hands, until she came to the one from her Mentee, delivered by Emmeline Bartleby. She smiled at the thoughtfulness of her first year friend when the Muggle-styled stationary and ink fountain pen fell into her lap. She passed it around to the remaining curios members of her birthday party, and it received many appraising words, especially from the girls.

"Wow! Muggles actually write with this contraption?" exclaimed Katie Bell, shaking the fountain pen and splattering ink all over her blouse. She cleaned it off with a wave of her wand and mused, "That's amazing!"

Lavender looked next. "And look! The parchment's—oh, paper?"

She turned to the other girls, "See, Katie, it's called statiomary paper—Well, it's even got her name on, see Parvati? Hermione Jane Granger, right at the top."

Ron pushed a messily wrapped gift towards her, "Open this one next, 'Mione. It's from me."

He turned crimson as she tore of the wrapping paper, and proceeded to turn redder than the school radishes when she flung herself around his shoulders, whispering her thanks in a gasp. Harry looked down at the table to finally see what Ron had gotten her from Miss Amanda's shop. A small, sliver locket glittered back at him from a deep velvet case, engraved with her initials- H.J.G.- on one side, and Ron's- R.B.W.- on the other. Handing it to his friend, Ron held it out to her and placed it in her hand, then covering it on top with his own. A brief, silver light pulsed from in between their fingers, and then they let go. Opening the locket for all to see, Harry and Ginny leaned close and found that on the inside were two wizard photographs, and Ron and Hermione were each smiling and waving back at them from their miniscule frames.

"It's beautiful, Ron," Hermione whispered, as he clasped it around her neck. "I'll treasure it always."

"Um… Well, there's more to it than that. Miss—um, the shopkeeper told me that if your, um, 'love is true' that you'll be able to feel my emotions through it. So, if I'm happy, or, um, in trouble, it will tell you. I have a pocket watch that matches, so that way I can feel you through it, too."

Harry and the rest blushed at seeing what seemed to be such a private moment, but it soon passed, and Hermione, the ever gracious hostess, moved on to her last few presents. After opening one from her parents, and also the book Professor McGonagall had lent her, she turned to the last, somewhat lonely package, also messily wrapped lying on the table.

Smiling, she turned to Harry. "From you, Mr. Potter, I presume?"

Harry nodded, blushing. What if she didn't like it? What if she thought it too unpractical? Harry held his breath as the final piece of tissue paper fell away.

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed softly. "Wherever did you find this?"

He and Ron shared a mischievous glance, and then both shook their heads.

"More than it's worth to tell you that, Hermy."

She giggled, and then placed her wand inside the intricately carved holder Harry had bought at Madam Amanda's Antiques and Amour.

"It's perfect, Harry. I've always wanted one, but could never find one that suited me. I love it, thank you."

Hermione hugged him, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered, "for everything."

Turning back to the table, she banished all the wrapping paper, and then sighed.

"Thank you, everyone, for doing this. It's been the best birthday I've ever had."

There was a chorus of 'you're welcome's', and then one by one the last remaining Gryffindors retreated to their beds, until it was only Ron and Hermione remaining. Pulling her into his lap, they sat together and stared into the fireplace, both content in the soft silence, each other's arms, and the warm, comforting pulse from the gift Ron had gotten them.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Ron."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The First Altercation**

It was Monday again. Harry shrugged, and tried to think of a plan for how he was going to spend two hours a week with 'the kid'. It could get old very quickly if they were just studying together in silence. He didn't think they could escape McGonagall much longer, and Hermione's pestering was getting more than he could bear. Harry didn't even know the first thing about how to approach Luke, and schedule some time together for this week. Sighing, he decided that he would just go with the flow, and follow Hermione's lead as to what she was doing with her first year. Frowning at the more than likely possibility that he would be spending an additional two hours in the library the first week of term, his mood was looking down every second. As Harry folded up the letter and put it in his pocket, there was a bright flash of fiery emerald light in front of him- his phoenix had just appeared, sending many loud 'oohs' and 'aahs' through the Great Hall.

Harry smiled- nameless as his new pet might be, the sight of her comforted him all the same. Sounding a small trill, the bird perched herself on Harry's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. As the mail arrived, Hedwig dropped the customary note from Hagrid in front of Harry, requesting that he, Hermione, Ron and (if she were so inclined) Ginny spend the first weekend tea at his hut. Harry began rustling through his bag to find a quill for his scrawled reply, and was desisted by his phoenix nudging him with her beak. Looking up, he saw that she had one of her tail feathers in her claws, and was requesting that Harry use it for a quill. Smiling, he took it from her and quickly let his giant friend know that he and three others would be joining him for tea on Saturday afternoon. After giving Hedwig some of his bacon and a deep drink from his orange juice, she and his phoenix flew off together out the open window.

"Wow, Harry!" cried Colin Creevey. "That's some bird!"

Harry could only smile. "She sure is."

"What's her name?"

Harry blushed. "Well, I'm still working on that, Colin."

Looking down, he noticed that he still had the Phoenix feather quill in his hand. Suddenly an idea popped into his head, and he rose from the table. Crossing the dining hall to the other side, dodging between students that were heading to class early, he approached the half empty Slytherin table.

"Hey, Luke!" he called, softly, not wanting to attract the attention of the older house members.

The young blonde haired boy turned in his seat, and glanced at his Mentor.

"What?" he asked, indifferently.

"Here," Harry offered, holding out the phoenix feather towards him. "My bird just gave it to me, and I'd like you to have it."

He paused awkwardly, reddening, noticing that Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and the usual crowd were all staring at him now. Luke seemed surprised and taken aback, yet he took the quill all the same.

"Why are you giving it to _me_?" he asked incredulously, almost in awe. Then, his eyebrows narrowed with suspicion, and after a brief glance around the table, as if to make sure they were all watching his "Slytherin-ish Behavior", he added accusingly, "Did you hex it?"

Harry felt his face begin to flush.

"No. Why would I do that? I don't even _know_ you enough for you to give me a reason to hex something I give you. Although, that could change," he grinned maliciously, "it all depends on you, kid."

After a pause, he shrugged his shoulders and added, "Besides- I'm your mentor- at least so I'm told. I'm supposed to watch out for you. And if you walk into Snape's class without a proper quill, Slytherin house or not, he'll give you detention. And how would _I_ look if my Mentee got detention the first week of term?"

Luke smiled lopsidedly, and carefully put the quill in his bag. Harry gave him a nod, and turned away to head back to the Gryffindor table (noticing large, approving grins from both Ginny and Hermione) to grab his bag before heading to Transfiguration. Behind him, he could still hear the Slytherin first years ogling over his gift to Luke.

"Wish Harry Potter was MY mentor!" he heard one of the girls sigh softly.

"Yeah, Luke! That's the best quill I've ever seen, and my uncle collects!" said another.

Suddenly, Harry felt a tug on his robes. Turning and looking down, he saw Luke not returning his gaze, and scuffling his feet on the floor.

"Um, thanks. Thanks a lot, Harry."

Harry smiled, even though the boy refused to look him in the eye. "No problem, Luke. I'm glad you like it."

And to his surprise, Luke actually looked up, and smiled at him, before he scampered off back to his friends at the table. Harry's mood brightened considerably as he walked whistling down the corridor to McGonagall's NEWT Transfiguration class.

The next week passed by like someone had purposely sped up time, and before Harry knew it, it was the fourth Friday of term, nearly October, and yet still no official announcement from Dumbledore had been made letting them know what the deal was with Quidditch.

"Wish he'd get on with it, really," muttered Ron to him confidentially one morning at breakfast.

"You're telling me," groaned Harry. "It was bad enough having to wait and see if my ban had been lifted, but now not to know if we can even play at all?"

"Come on, guys," pleaded Hermione, "we're going to be late!"

Sighing collectively, Harry and Ron grabbed their bags and left the Great Hall. As he walked down to the dungeons, Harry reflected that so far term was going quite well. He had spent his weekly two-hour session with Luke already, and although the kid was still quite "Slytherin-ish" in his mannerisms, he at least was civil toward Harry and Hermione during their study session in the library, and smiled quite politely when Hermione complimented him on his knowledge about bezoars. Harry found that Luke was quite smart and didn't need help in much of his homework, nor did Maddelein Roseworth, Hermione's partner.

Entering the potions classroom alone, Harry sighed. Hermione had needed to nip into the toilette, and so Ron (the ever courteous boyfriend) had waited for her, leaving Harry to go on ahead. As Harry settled in for his last lesson of the week ("_Bloody Hell, POTIONS as our last lesson?"_ cried an outraged Ron, upon reading his schedule for the first time. "_What a way to end the week!_"), he prayed that the cold silence between him and his partner would last through one more class. Harry set up his cauldron and ingredients for the day's lesson when Malfoy came sauntering into the room.

"So, Potter," he sneered, after plopping down his bag, "thought you could buy Luke off last week with that quill, did you?"

Harry turned to him with a steely gaze. "No, Ferret, unlike you, I don't try to buy people's friendship. I just thought it would be a nice thing to do. I'm sure if you were nice to your Mentee she would be to you. Luke may be a prime Slytherin example, but he's civil with me because I was nice to him from the start. I didn't just _stereotype_ him, like you do to everyone."

"What are you even talking about, Potter? Be **nice** to my first year midget?" drawled Malfoy, carelessly tossing his bag onto the desk. "I won't have anything to do with that Mudblood and I told the Headmaster so."

Harry turned to him, and after carefully picking up the shoulder strap of Malfoy's bag and placing it on the Slytherin's 'side' of the desk, he replied scathingly, "You don't even know her, Malfoy. How can you even be sure she's a… well, that she's not got wizard blood?"

"How thick could you **be**, Potter? Anyone with proper wizarding pride would be able to tell a Mudblood when they see one. Come to think of it, anyone with pride at ALL would know about their own _family's_ history, too."

Harry could feel his temper flaring, along with the eyes of his classmates burning into the back of his head. It had been taking all of his self-control and repeated pillow-pummeling sessions late at night with Ron to keep him from assaulting Malfoy in the manner that he fully deserved.

Malfoy paused dramatically, raising a hand to his mouth, and gave a very fake, audible gasp.

"Oh, but that's right." he continued, in his fake, simpering drawl. "You don't HAVE a family, do you Potter? Not unless you call that heap of blood-traitoring rubbish the Weasleys a family. But if you like spending holidays in a bin, then, far be it for me to understand the famous Gryffindor Poster Boy's intellect."

"Lay off, Malfoy," Harry warned.

"Oh, you don't like me talking about the Weasel, do you, Potter? I take it the Mudblood's off limits then, too," taunted Draco. "Let's talk about your parents, then, shall we?"

"I'm warning you, Malfoy. Shut your sodding mouth!"

But Draco pressed forward, as if Harry had never spoken.

"Oh, yes. The arrogant Potter and his Mudblood, MUGGLE-BORN wife are what YOU had for parents. I suppose even Weasley's dumpy mum would be an improvement after that slag. But your parents- they went and got themselves killed by the Dark Lord didn't they? Didn't know what was god for them did they—"

Harry was fuming; his hair was beginning to unnaturally stand on end- even for his standards. He could feel his skin begin to tighten unnaturally as pure magic swelled and coursed its way through his veins.

"Uh-oh," Ernie MacMillan cringed to Justin Finch-Fletchly, upon feeling the magical charge reach their desk.

"Malfoy better shut his mouth if he knows what's good for him," Justin groaned. "Nothing good came out of him insulting Harry and Ron's mums last year at the Quidditch match."

"—Your parents were the sodding stupidest witch and wizard alive." Draco was still going strong, too far deep into his own rage to feel the fury dangerously radiating off Harry.

"Oh- but wait. They're _not_ alive any more, are they Scarhead?" Draco laughed maliciously. "They're **dead**. Just dropped off the official parchment of the wizarding world, didn't they, Potter? Just like Diggory. Just like your precious Godfather. Snuffed it. All of them. Just like everyone close to you will sooner or later. Just like you're going to do after the Dark Lord gets through with you."

Harry could feel his anger boiling, ready to overflow. He began his breathing techniques in attempts to calm himself.

"Stop it. Right now, Malfoy."

"What's the matter, Potter? Scared? Are you afraid of the Dark Lord? Are you just as stupid as your parents were, Harry? Too stupid to protect themselves? Too stupid to know who to trust? Too stupid to know that Dumbledore would fail them, just like he's failing **you** right now?"

"I said shut UP Malfoy!" Harry screamed, magic pulsing, eyes blackening with rage. It was taking everything he had not to pulverize Malfoy within an inch of his life, and he didn't think he could hold out much longer.

"You're going to meet the same sticky fucking end your precious parents did, Potter, and by Merlin, I hope I'm there—"

THUD.

Harry tackled Malfoy to the ground, scattering all the desks and potion ingredients in their immediate vicinity. Punching the blonde squarely across the jaw, Harry put every ounce of force he had into the hit. Grabbing Malfoy by the shoulders, Harry lifted him up before he lay into him again- this time across the center of his face. The girls of the class screamed as Malfoy's nose broke, splattering blood in a five-foot radius.

"You think it's _funny_, don't you?" Harry screamed, positively spitting with rage. "HUH? You think it's funny that I had to be raised in a cupboard by Muggles? You do, **don't you**, _you worthless sack of Death Eater shit_?"

Malfoy struggled, but Harry wasn't holding back. He'd had enough. Tired of Malfoy's snide comments that had been whispered in his ear over the past five weeks- over the past five _years_- Harry forgot everything about the consequences Snape had warned him about. He was going to finally give Malfoy the beating he deserved. Harry was far too occupied, but Justin Finch-Fletchly noticed that no one in the room was making any move to stop the raven-haired boy from pulverizing Malfoy's face into mush. Either they were too afraid, or they thought Malfoy deserved every punch that he was being delivered. Justin personally would have helped Harry had he needed it.

Harry was laying into every hit, as if releasing every frustration he'd had since he was old enough to walk. Straddling Malfoy on the floor, it was as if Harry had completely forgotten the last five years of magical training he received and just punched Draco with all the force he could muster, ignoring the screams of the girls in the room that were begging him to stop.

"You won't think it's funny when the Dark Lord starts picking off _your_ family one by one!" he screamed, grabbing Draco by the cloak and shaking him vigorously. "I'd rather have NO family than a fucking **Death Eater father** and Voldemort arse-kissing mother like yours! He doesn't care who he hurts- don't you _realize_ that? He'd kill every single one of his Death Shitters if he found it beneficial!"

CRACK

Draco had finally gotten a hold of his wand and used it to blast Harry across the room, where he landed on top of Daphne and Pansy. The last comment about how the Dark Lord 'didn't care who he tortured' as long as he became more powerful, and how Harry didn't think Malfoy would find it 'funny' when the Dark Lord started picking off his family one by one cut him deeper than any punch the raven-haired boy had thrown. He'd had enough of Pretty-Boy-Potter, the Boy-With-Too-Many-Morals.

"You don't know FUCK about my family, Potter!" Draco screamed, shoving Theodore Nott, who had begun trying to restrain him, away.

Pulling himself up off of Pansy and Daphne, with no regard as to what body parts he pressed on to elevate himself, Harry began throwing hexes so fast at Malfoy that many other members of the class had to dive out of the way or risk being hit, which many of them were anyway. Snape hadn't even entered the classroom yet, it was so early, and so the battle raged on.

Desks, jars of animal limbs, chairs, hexes and curses were thrown one after another, and while some of Harry's had made contact, Malfoy still seemed no worse for the wear than when they had started dueling in the wizard style and stopped beating each other senseless in the Muggle way. It was undeniable- he was an exceptional dueler to have made it this far with Harry in the rage that he was.

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!" cried two voices from the doorway, and Harry's, along with Malfoy's wand went flying into two separate hands.

Professor Snape was visibly smoking from the ears, he was so angry, and he clutched Harry's wand so firmly in his hand that the boy feared it would crack. Hermione just stood in the doorway right behind him with Ron- they had come later to class behind Harry- with Malfoy's wand in her hand, the books she had been carrying tumbled, as if in slow motion, to the floor.

Upon the loss of their wands, Harry and Draco paused, but only for the briefest second, before they both jumped over what was left of the potions classroom and began to tackle each other once again in the Muggle fashion.

"Draco, NO!" cried Pansy, from behind a bloody nose. She had been hit by a stray hex- from which boy's wand, she didn't know.

She, Hermione and Theodore Nott jumped forward to pull the two boys apart, and had successfully grabbed Draco. Ron, Justin Finch-Fletchly and Ernie MacMillan together were having quite a hard time restraining Harry from pummeling the already bleeding Slytherin within an inch of his life for the crude remarks he had made about Harry's parents.

Snape, it appeared, could say nothing. He left the six students to restrain Harry and Draco and crossed the entire dungeon floor in three strides. Snape was radiating with fury. His office door flew open with a loud BANG, and he tossed a fistful of floo powder into the fire.

"**DUMBLEDORE**! Get down here, _NOW_!"

There was a flash of bright red flames, and Albus Dumbledore appeared in the middle of the room, holding on to a fistful of Fawkes' feathers, staring at the door where Severus Snape was now standing, arms folded, absolutely shaking with rage.

"What is it, Severus?" the Headmaster asked, his wand raised, Fawkes now circling over his head.

"Turn around, Headmaster. See for yourself," Snape gestured impatiently toward Harry and Malfoy, who were still adamantly trying to get at one another.

"Let me GO, Pansy! I'm going to KILL that son of a Mudblood **slag**!" cried Draco, attempting to break away from the grips of Hermione, Pansy and Theodore.

"Not funny… kill him… my mum and dad… Sirius… DARE he!" Harry was stuttering, his green eyes ablaze, and ruby sparks were spouting from every lock of his hair and each of his ten fingers. The rest of the class just stared, and some of the girls were crying. They had never seen someone (especially Harry Potter!) so angry, and it was positively frightening.

It took every ounce of courage and strength for Ron, Justin and Ernie to hold Harry back- his magic had nearly thrown them off a half dozen times already, and there was no telling when Harry would explode. Ron knew from experience that Harry was on the very edge- even more than he had been the previous summer in the drawing room- and understood that Malfoy's very life- no matter how vile and worthless- may have depended on him restraining his friend.

Dumbledore stood, and absorbed the situation quite rapidly.

"Oh dear," he muttered, sighing.

Snape swept up to his side. "What are you going to do about this, Headmaster? I told you what happened the last time, did I not?"

Albus nodded, "I couldn't agree more, Severus. I'm sorry to say, though, that you will find it quite difficult to continue with you remaining lesson, as nearly all your students should head up to see Madam Pomfrey immediately for medical attention."

"No, Headmaster. I must insist that those that are able to stay do so- we are beginning the Polyjuice Potion today, and it is most crucial they sit the lesson if they are at all fit."

"Understood, Severus."

Turning to the students, he added, "Well, you heard your Professor. If you need to see the nurse, please do so. If you are able to return to the lesson, it is recommended you do so."

"_Exemplarus Rightus," _muttered the Headmaster, and he waved his wand in a complex pattern. The classroom immediately righted itself to its normal state of orderliness.

Fixing his eyes on Harry and Draco, the Headmaster's eyes turned cold. Many of the people in the room shivered, as his stare immediately smoldered the fire that Harry seemed to have lit inside all of them.

"Mr. Malfoy, you will head to the hospital wing with your classmates. You will be contacted about your detention later this evening. Mr. Potter, you will come with me."

Upon the word of the Headmaster, those that had been holding Harry and Draco down released them. With a final glare at one another, they departed- Draco to the hospital wing, and Harry to the Headmaster's office, but not before he turned to Pansy and offered her the Nosebleeding Nougat antidote he had in his pocket. She accepted it, and gazed at him curiously, blue eyes wide with wonder.

"Well," Snape glowered, "those that remain- to your seats. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Miss Parkinson and Mr. Nott, you will please remain behind after class. Mr. MacMillan and Mr. Finch-Fletchly, although your restraints upon Mr. Potter are greatly appreciated, as they prevented any further damage to my classroom, you need not remain behind."

A moment's pause, and then-

"…The Polyjuice Potion is on the board. Please begin."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Ron's Realization**

A last look to Ron and Hermione, and Harry left the dungeon. Had he stayed a few minutes more, his suspicions about how odd Ron was acting would have been confirmed. Not a minute after Professor Snape had told them to begin the Polyjuice potion Ron began to shake and sweat. Hermione grabbed his hand underneath the desk, and attempted to calm him. She could see Snape giving them a curious eye, and she was at a loss for what to do.

Hermione knew that Snape would strongly object to them leaving class- especially after he had asked them to remain behind- but she also knew that Ron was about to have a Department of Mysteries induced breakdown. Somewhat distraught, she decided that she needed to get Ron out of the dungeon, before him completely breaking down aroused suspicions. She gave Snape a pointed stare, and was extremely thankful when he came over and sneered (albeit quietly),

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"Please, Professor, Ron needs to leave. I thought he would be all right- but we really need to go to the nurse."

The hook-nosed Professor gazed down at the red-head who looked about ready to either burst into tears, or pass out on the spot. He nodded his approval to Hermione, and then spoke aloud.

"If Mr. Weasley cannot handle NEWT potions at this time, Miss Granger, and must leave, then I shall expect you both to catch up on your own. No excuses. Get out of my sight."

Following them to the door, he whispered a hurried message to Hermione before closing it behind them.

"You will explain this to me and the Headmaster later, Miss Granger. Obviously Mr. Weasley is still suffering from certain—altercations-- last summer, and this should not be kept from the Headmaster- no matter how weak it makes Mr. Weasley appear to ask for help.

Brilliant as you are- I do not feel this is something you two should have to handle together on your own."

Shocked, Hermione could only nod, and then lead Ron to a concealed classroom, before he completely broke down into tears.

"Shhh, Ron. It's all right. Harry's all right. _We're_ all right. Everything will be fine."

Ron did nothing but cry silently into Hermione's shoulder, and it was quite some time before he spoke.

"'Mione- don't you see? Harry nearly lost control! It took everything Justin, Ernie and I had to hold him back- and I even used the most complex restraining spell I know! And he STILL almost broke it!"

Hermione stared, unbelieving. She didn't know what was more impressive- that Harry had nearly broke out of a _Movatus Nixus_ charm, or the fact that Ron had actually looked up that particular charm in his NEWT book.

"I've never seen him so angry! Not since that night where I made that stupid sodding comment about how he doesn't know much about mums. Draco totally picked the wrong thing to mess with Harry on."

Hermione nodded in agreement, "I know, Ron. I can't believe he called Harry's mum a slag. It was awful."

Wiping his eyes, Ron gazed at his best friend, and shook his head.

"It is, 'Mione, but don't you understand? Couldn't you feel what was happening? The magical discharge that Harry was letting off was enough to almost set the room on fire! Malfoy was so angry- HARRY was so angry! If I hadn't researched the _Movatus Nixus_ charm Harry probably could have killed him with a blast of wild magic!"

Hermione gasped, "You really think so, Ron?"

"Hermione, you probably couldn't feel Harry's rage because you were standing behind Malfoy- essentially shielded by the Ferret's anger. That's why half the girls in the class were crying- they didn't know what to do!"

"What are we going to do, Ron? Harry's getting a lot more powerful than I think he can handle. Do you…"

Hermione paused, afraid of how Ron would react to her next question.

"Do you think Harry's dangerous?"

Surprisingly, Ron smiled.

"Not to us, 'Mione. But to gits like Malfoy- definitely. I'm glad he's on our side, or I'd fear for my life."

Ron sighed, and braced himself. "V-v-vol-voldemort won't know what hit him once Harry's through with him."

Hermione smiled, and threw her arms around Ron's neck- he had finally said Lord Voldemort's name. She pulled away only when she realized that Ron was crying again.

"Ron? My love? What's wrong?"

Ron turned away, embarrassed that he couldn't handle his emotions any more- but he was glad that he had Hermione as an outlet. Without her, he would have probably gone stir-crazy. Every time he got emotionally riled, the scars along his arms and chest seized up, and the only way Ron had found to release the tension was to cry. It was either cry, or explode it seemed like, and Ron knew which one he preferred, despite being caught between a rock and a hard place.

"It's just… I'm so afraid, Hermione. Malfoy looked ready to kill. I saw it in his eyes when you were holding him back, and I… I just—I couldn't bear to lose Harry. He's my best friend, you know?"

Hermione nodded. After all, she knew that she, Ron and Harry were close- but her friendship with them could never match what Harry and Ron had together. It was much like how she and Ginny shared a closeness that she could never have with the boys.

"I know, Ron."

"A-a-and… Well, I just—at that moment, my whole life flashed before my eyes. My whole life since I met Harry, and I realized that… that when I'm with him, I feel alive. I feel significant. I feel like I'm important, and I stand out above all my brothers. I'm not shoved aside because of Harry- if anything- I'm brought forward because of him.

"Harry could have been friends with **anyone** at Hogwarts- and yet he's friends with US. Friends with ME, 'Mione. I can't imagine how I could get through life without him. Bloody hell, I can't imagine how I got through life BEFORE him. Before you. I guess… I guess what I mean is… Bugger. I don't KNOW what I mean."

"I think," Hermione said gently, "what you mean is that you'd feel a little lost if you didn't have Harry around any more."

Ron smiled, and pecked her on the cheek.

"How is it you always know what I'm trying to say, Hermy?"

The no longer bushy-haired girl smiled.

"Because I love you, Ron. And this just means that we'll have to try even harder to make sure that Harry wins- so we can all grow up together."

Ron smiled, and helped Hermione off the stone floor. "I love you, too, Hermione."

Together, they walked into the corridor, after Hermione cast a clever concealing charm to hide Ron's puffy eyes and red face.

"Oh, Ron?"

"Yes, love?"

"Don't call me Hermy."

Joining hands, they headed to the sixth year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, so they could write a note to explain to Professors Snape and Dumbledore what they thought was happening with Ron's emotions. At first, Ron protested, but after Hermione pointed out that he would have a better chance at helping Harry fight if he would not have a nervous breakdown after every emotional event, he conceded. After several months of waiting, Ron thought that finally, a solution might be found.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Draco's Detour**

Draco wandered the halls aimlessly after he had left Potions and the Hospital Wing that afternoon. The Headmaster had contacted him about his punishment before he was dismissed from Madam Pomfrey's care. He couldn't believe his luck (or, more appropriately, lack thereof).

Detention.

With pretty-boy Potter.

It was the last place he wanted to spend his Saturday night- alone in Professor Snape's office with the Gryffindor poster boy.

Sighing, he headed down a corridor that he had heard quite a bit about, but one he had never visited himself: the one to the kitchens. Draco had no desire to sit in the Great Hall for dinner today and be belittled and simpered about by Pansy Parkinson. Tickling the pear as instructed until it squirmed, he stepped into the brightly lit kitchens and was immediately knocked to the floor by an over-excited house elf.

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter sir has come to see Dobby! Oh, Dobby is so—"

Dobby immediately gasped when he had realized that the sixth year he had just tackled was indeed not his current Master, but his former.

"D-dobby?" choked Draco, rising to his feet and brushing himself off.

The elf squeaked and disappeared with a crack, leaving a one mystified Draco Malfoy in his smoke. The blonde Slytherin didn't have much time to ponder what had just happened because he was immediately hailed upon by scores of elves positively begging to let them serve him. He soon left the kitchens, pockets full, smiling to himself.

'_Well, looks like the Gryffindors aren't all that impressive with their food nicking skills as I thought. Those elves can barely contain themselves when they have a chance to give it away!'_

Munching his sandwich and patting his now food-filled pockets Draco took a few back routes to steer him away from the Great Hall, wanting to be alone. He wondered if it had, in fact, been his former house elf that had tackled him in the kitchens. Could he even be sure that his old house elf's name had been Dobby? Or maybe it was Darby? Or Bobby even? Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought.

'_The house elf thought I was Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! There's no way someone like Scarhead could have a house elf!'_

Passing an old tapestry, Draco continued to wander when a sound met his ears. It was a sound he was quite unaccustomed to hearing, being a Malfoy and a Slytherin, but he would recognize it anywhere.

Someone was crying.

Doubling back to the tapestry (which seemed to be the source of the noise), Draco smirked to himself. What better way to make himself feel better than knocking off points from someone for skipping meals to wallow in self pity? Drawing his wand, he carefully moved the tapestry aside to reveal a hidden doorway.

'_Interesting. I wonder why I've never noticed this before?'_

"_Silencio_," he whispered, directing his wand at the door.

Noiselessly, he opened it to find nothing more than a small broom cupboard. Unremarkable, really, had it not been for the girl sitting on an overturned mop bucket unsuccessfully attempting to control her sobs. She was facing the back wall of the broom closet, and had neither seen nor heard him enter. Draco had entered the hidden cupboard with every intention of taking points off of the person if they were in his own house _('The disgrace! A Slytherin, crying!'_), or dragging them into the Great Hall in front of everyone with a tear streaked face and forcing them to eat while everyone stared if they were from another. Unfortunately for Draco, all his desires to make someone else's life more miserable than his was at the current time were washed away with the sight of this small girl.

She was very petite, almost elfin, with long blonde hair tied back into a half ponytail with a bit of gray satin ribbon. Her face (from what he could see of it) would normally be a creamy white, had it not been so flushed from her crying. Something about the girl made him stop in his tracks. He had never seen someone so miserable in his entire life- and that was saying something, as he had Lucius Malfoy for a father. Draco had spent the majority of his childhood being belittled by his male role model, thinking he had never been good enough—but that was beside the point right now. This girl positively radiated despair through the entire cupboard.

But wait. There was something familiar about her. Draco felt as if he should know this girl's name, but he couldn't place it. Afraid, he started to back out of the closet. He didn't know why he had come in here in the first place, and if he (for some reason) was incapable of knocking points off of the girl for skipping the feast, he didn't feel like being caught in a closet with a crying female first year.

_CRASH_

Startled, the girl jumped up and turned, drawing her wand with a shaky hand. Draco had tripped over another mop bucket.

"Shit," he cursed, attempting to pick himself up.

'_Great,'_ he muttered inwardly, _'now I've gone and embarrassed myself in front of some twit. That will go over well.'_

The girl leaned forward and held out her hand to help him up. Cursing to himself, Draco waved it away and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"D- d- dr- Draco? Are you all right?"

"Fine. I'm fine, no thanks to you," he spat, picking himself up off the floor. "I think you're the one that has problems if you're hiding in a broom cupboard during dinner. You best be thankful you're not in my house or I'd have you in detention faster than you can say 'Sugar Quill'."

Much to his rage, the girl laughed.

"I'd like to see you try it, Draco."

Finally looking at her face to face, Draco's anger got the best of him.

"What gives you the right to talk to me like that? I am a PREFECT, I'll have you know. I ought to report you to your Mentor. They're a sixth year- they'll straighten you out and show you how to respect your elders."

"You ARE my mentor, you nit wit."

Draco stared at her, as if seeing her properly for the first time.

"_What_! I am? How'd I get stuck with a saucy little **twit** like you?"

She sighed, trying to wipe away the remains of her tears, and stood straight, facing him as defiantly as her small frame could muster. Draco could see she was clearly ashamed of her crying, not to mention being caught- especially by her Mentor, 'Slytherin Prince' that he was.

_Damn well should be ashamed,_ Draco thought to himself, kicking the mop bucket that had given him away._ Stupid first year twit!_

"Yes, you're my mentor. And might I say you're doing a rather awful job. You haven't even talked to me since the welcoming feast."

Draco stared, jaw gaping. _Good God_, he thought. _Even Granger doesn't have the audacity to talk to me like this! I like this girl- she's got spunk—oh Merlin, did I really just think that? _

Draco shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts, which had just been interrupted by the young blonde girl.

"My name is Aurelia Formosus. I'm surprised you don't remember me. …I stuck my tongue out at you."

Draco was fuming. Not only had a _first year_ seen him trip all over himself, now he was going to be forced to spend time with this _same_ first year.

"Look," he spat, trying to control his temper, "that's nice and all, but me being your mentor or not I really don't think we should be spending so much time in a broom closet."

Aurelia shrugged, wiped her eyes and walked out. She turned right immediately, walking away from Draco. Draco seethed, and turned to the left, wishing that it would be the last time he would see the girl, but knowing it was hopeless. Angry about the way his day was going, he kicked the wall, and cursed aloud. Now, on top of everything he had a sore foot. Temper incensed, he turned around realizing that he was going the wrong way to get back to the Slytherin common room.

He ran smack into Aurelia, who fell over backwards and attempted to grab onto Draco's robes to steady herself. Surprised by her being right behind him, Draco was unsteady and toppled right onto her. They fell to the floor, Draco on top of the small blonde, and for the first time he looked her in the eyes as her hands grasped around his wrists. Suddenly, he was overcome with the strangest feeling- as if this Mudblood Muggle-born was reading his mind.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he cried, pushing himself off of her and standing up.

Aurelia rose directly after him, and brushed herself off. Her eyes were shining with fresh tears, and they had nothing to do with Draco falling on top of her.

"_You're_ my mentor. I'm supposed to _learn_ from you. I can't talk to anyone else about this- they wouldn't understand. You have to spend time with me anyway, so you might as well get it over with now."

Draco cringed- she was right. The little twit was right. How was it that she could make him so miserable?

'_After all, she's only a first year!'_ he reprimanded himself.

He sighed, "All right, Alli, what is it? Let's get this mushy bonding stuff over with, so from now on all I have to do is help you with homework or something."

"It's Aurelia. And I—" she looked worriedly around her. "Can we go somewhere? I don't need the whole school overhearing this. It's bad enough the 'Prince of Slytherin' had to find me in a broom closet, mentor or no."

Draco laughed in spite of himself. "Prince of Slytherin? What in Merlin's name is that all about?"

Aurelia shrugged as Draco led her up two more flights of stairs to the Room of Requirement. He had only learned about it when he and the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad had ambushed Potter and his friends in there last year, but he thought it might be useful for this. Pacing in front of the bit of wall three times, he concentrated on what he wanted to be in the room. Aurelia gasped as a door appeared out of thin air. Ever the gentleman, Draco held the door for her and then shut it behind them.

"What is this place?" she breathed.

"Don't know, really. But it's dead useful. Sit. Let's get this over with."

Draco plopped into one of the chintz armchairs that the room had provided and helped himself to the food on the table- his sandwich had not nearly been filling enough, and he assumed that the food in his pockets would not really be fit for eating after having fallen to the floor on top of someone. Aurelia followed suit and sat very ladylike in the chair across from him.

Draco didn't really know what he was supposed to do, but he was bound by the school to show _'the twit'_ support, so he decided to just nod a lot and tell her 'everything would be fine'. Aurelia looked tense as she stirred her tea and nibbled on a cucumber sandwich.

"I don't really know how to tell it. It's bad, and so I'm not supposed to say it I don't think."

Draco began to get irritated. "Look, Amalie—"

"Aurelia—"

"Whatever. I'm sure whatever it is; I've heard it before, all right? I don't really do this 'heart to heart' stuff, so can we please just get on with it? I can't believe I'm even in here in the first place."

Aurelia nodded, but Draco saw her eyes fill with tears again.

He cringed, _'Good Lord, what happened to the proud little twit that stuck her tongue out at me at the Welcoming Feast? I almost miss her with the way this An… whatever her name is twit is acting.'_

"It… well, I was in class today—Herbology—and one of the girls got really mad at me when I dropped a pot on her foot. It wasn't my fault even! I mean- there was this really big plant and it had been trying to trip people all class period and—"

"_Get to the point, munchkin_," Draco hissed, through clenched teeth.

"I—um, she—I… She yelled at me, and…" Aurelia paused, as if inwardly asking herself if she had the courage to go on.

"A-a-and, she said that a 'filthy little Mudblood' like me shouldn't be allowed here at Hogwarts if I couldn't even carry a flower pot right, and how could they ever expect someone like **me** to learn **magic**?"

Draco grinned. He would have to applaud the first year that had been so quick witted to come up with such an insult—no doubt she had been from Slytherin house. Aurelia stared at him, unable to understand what had just caused her mentor to smile like that. She noted that he had a really nice smile, when he was actually _smiling_, and not smirking.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked confusedly. "Margaret wasn't smiling when Professor Sprout took 100 points from her for saying it."

Draco's grin immediately faded. Zabini's little sister had just lost their house the lead for the House Cup.

"And I don't even know what it means!" cried the girl exasperatedly. "I just know that after class she threatened to beat me up, and then somehow she was on the green house roof!"

Draco grinned once again- he had to admire Aurelia for doing such powerful magic, even if it did mean that one of his best friends' sister ended up on a roof somewhere.

"Look, don't worry about it, ok? Margaret just doesn't know any better than to say such things. It's not really used nromally, any way.

"Besides, I'm sure that since you already bested her by landing her on the green house roof she won't be calling you it again any time soo—"

Draco stopped, and rethought what he had just said. He couldn't believe that he was sticking up for (and _comforting_!) the little Mudblood! How was it that _he_, Draco Lucius Malfoy had all of a sudden found himself in a room, alone with a first year Mudblood, eating a sandwich and begun CONSOLING her?

Aurelia interrupted his thoughts-

"What does it mean, Draco?"

"What?"

"The M word?"

"The M word? Oh, honestly Andrea—"

"Aurelia—"

"WHATEVER! Look, don't be afraid of calling something by its proper name! Well, I guess '_Mudblood'_ can hardly be considered **proper**, but still."

Aurelia eyed him curiously, waiting for him to get to the point. Draco sighed. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

'_Why does Merlin hate me today?'_ he cursed inwardly.

"It means 'dirty blood' and all Pure Blood wizards- like Margaret Zabini- think that anyone that's less than Pure Blooded is a Mudblood, and therefore inferior. Pure Bloods marry Pure Bloods and that's that. Anything less would be improper, impure, and inferior. Most Pure Bloods think that magic schooling should be kept only in all wizarding families, and so that's why Zabini Junior said what she did."

"But then why doesn't she say things like that to the other students? There's got to be tons of wizards and witches that aren't pure!"

"Pure Bloods hate Muggle-borns most of all," Draco explained, with only the slightest bit of impatience. "It's really the meanest thing that you could call someone in the Wizarding World."

Aurelia blanched, staring at the boy in front of her, eyes wide.

"_Wow_. No wonder Professor Sprout was so upset. Ok, Draco. I won't be afraid anymore."

Draco raised his eyebrows, as if debating whether or not to believe her. Deciding that at this point he didn't really care, he nodded in hopes that she would be done and he could leave. After a brief period of silence, he decided to break the tension.

"Good. Are you done now?"

Aurelia nodded, and smiled thoughtfully. "I guess that Hermyne Gr-Grange? Is that her name? Hermyne Grange? …Well, that girl is right then- just like you said."

"What! **Granger**? As in '_I'm-too-perfect-for-everyone-other-than-Scarhead-and-Weasel'_ Hermione Granger?"

Aurelia nodded.

"Right about _what_? There is NO WAY that I agree with Granger on anything! Much _less_ would I ever say that she's RIGHT!"

Aurelia grabbed another sandwich, and leaned back once more in her chair. Clearly she had gotten what she wanted- a true, genuine reaction out of the normally cold and stiff 'always-lies-to-protect-himself' Prince of Slytherin.

"But _you_ just said 'don't be afraid of calling something by its proper name'," she pointed out, gleefully, "and _Hermione_ _Granger_ says that we shouldn't be afraid to call Lord Voldemort by his real name either."

Draco choked on his sandwich at the mention of the Dark Lord.

"What?" asked Aurelia, for once not feigning innocence.

"Look, Amelia—"

"_Aurelia_—"

"ARGH! All right, whatever! Look, **that** is entirely different. The D-d-dark Lord is something that… Look, I don't want to talk about that now, though, ok- or EVER really. _Especially_ with you."

"It's because of your Father, isn't it?" interpolated Aurelia, knowledgably. "Lord Voldemort wants you to join him, but you can't because you're not of age. And you're scared. You're not sure if it's a good idea. You're afraid of who he might hurt to get you to side with him."

Draco stared. He liked this girl less and less by the minute. She knew far too much about how to push his buttons, and she didn't even realize it. Comparing him with the likes of Hermione Granger (_'Disgusting! That filth?'_), and calling the Dark Lord by name in his presence- she was driving him crazy! And then her talking about how the Dark Lord wanted him to join his father and become a Death Ea—

_Woah. Back up here,_ thought Draco.

"How did you—"

She shrugged. "I Saw it. When you fell on me in the hall. And who is the tall blonde lady? She's really pretty, and you have her nose… and her eyes, too. She loves you, you know."

Draco jumped out of his seat, and reached across the table to grab Aurelia by the collar, who squeaked and dropped her sandwich.

"Do not EVER repeat that!" he yelled vehemently through clenched teeth, attempting to remain calm, but unsuccessfully._ "None of it_, do you understand? It's more than your _life_ is worth to repeat anything you just said. Especially the part about my-- _don't talk about things you don't understand!_"

Aurelia looked terrified. She had never seen anyone so angry, and it frightened her.

"N-n-no! Of c-c-course not! That's not what I'm like. I won't tell a soul- n-n-n-not even a _ghost_ of a soul!"

Draco sat back down, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. Shaking, he filled his goblet with water and drank deeply. After his heart rate slowed to normal, he spoke.

"She was my mother."

'_Merlin, WHY am I telling her this?'_

"Was?" Aurelia asked, timidly, rubbing her throat, clearly afraid of provoking another reaction like his previous one.

"Yes. …She was killed last summer by the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord thought she betrayed him, and so he killed her. My father helped. And that _does not leave this room_.

"I—I had—I had to watch the whole thing. I don't even know why I'm telling you in the first place, but I guess that you'd probably just 'see' that anyway, wouldn't you?"

Aurelia nodded, but chose not to comment. A long silence ensued. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke, her voice soft and timid.

"Draco? You're not like them."

He looked at her quizzically, "What do you mean? Not like who?"

"You're not… well, you're not _mean_. You're a Pure Blood, but _you_ wouldn't think that Muggle-borns are inferior. Your other Pure Blood relatives might think that, and your friends… but you don't, do you?"

She didn't give him time to answer, much less protest, before barreling forward.

"You're _good_, Draco. You're smart, and funny and _nice_ and people like you. You would never hurt someone's feelings by calling them a Mudblood."

Draco stared at her. This girl—this _TWIT, _he corrected himself, —was hitting every nail of his life directly on the head, even without Seeing into his mind. But, despite the fact that she had amazing "Seeing" potential- Draco knew she was very naïve. She thought the boy who had taken time to _talk_ with her today was 'funny' and 'nice' and 'good'—but that boy was not the REAL Draco Malfoy. She had no clue what he was really like. What he _had_ _been_ like… before last summer.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," he replied, coldly, although even he could hear that it was a half-hearted attempt.

Rising, he strode purposefully towards the door, but turned to take one last look at his mentee before he walked out. He saw more compassion in her eyes than he ever thought possible—even from his mother, and she (like Aurelia had unknowingly pointed out) had been the only one to ever love him for what he _truly_ was- not who his father _wanted_ him to be. Shaking his head, Draco shut the door behind him and slowly walked to the Slytherin common room alone.

_Somehow… I'm more confused than ever. And yet… and yet, I feel better._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The Second Meeting**

Harry followed the Headmaster to his office, wand still clutched in his hand, head held high. He knew that as much as he should have tried to hold his temper that Draco had deserved every hit. Upon reaching the gargoyle, the Headmaster gave the password and it sprung aside to reveal the moving staircase.

"After you, Harry," Albus gestured indifferently with his hand.

Harry shrugged and stepped onto the staircase. He had been in Professor Dumbledore's office many times before, but never for a reason like this. He didn't know quite what to expect, other than maybe the possibility of expulsion. He stood in the middle of the room, and heard the door close softly behind him. He watched with observant eyes as his Headmaster gingerly moved around in front of him, but didn't sit at his desk like he normally did. Instead, he went to his cupboard, removed his Pensieve, and then sat down at one of the chintz armchairs next to a small table in the corner.

"Please, have a seat, Harry."

It was a request- Harry could tell that much. Gazing at the elderly man with a leery eye, Harry sat gingerly on the edge of the cushion, and waited for him to make the first statement.

Dumbledore sighed, reached into his pocket, and removed a small tin, which Harry thought could only contain lemon drops. Albus offered him one, and Harry politely accepted, not knowing really what else to do. The only sound for quite some time was the crunching of sweets before his Mentor finally spoke.

"Harry, I'd like to know what happened. I'd like to see it with my very own eyes what caused you and young Mr. Malfoy to throttle one another so viciously. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to use my Pensieve, that way it will be as accurate a representation as possible."

Harry nodded, and obediently drew the memory from his temple with his wand, and placed it in the basin. He started to lean back, so he could wait patiently for the Headmaster to return, but Albus shook his head.

"Oh no, Harry, I'm not doing this alone. You'll be coming with me."

Harry raised his eyebrows inquiringly, but didn't protest. He knew that he would only be cut off mid-sentence any way.

"You need to see what happened for yourself," Dumbledore continued, "and see the destruction that it caused before you will ever understand why you must learn to control your power, and above all, your emotions."

Harry wasn't sure he fully understood what the Headmaster was talking about, but he nodded and stood up, preparing himself to enter the memory that was still fresh in his mind. He and Professor Dumbledore plunged their hands into the depths of the basin, and once again Harry felt the somersaulting motion as he vaulted head first into his memory.

Not really wanting to hear Malfoy's scathing words again so soon, Harry walked over to stand by Justin Finch-Fletchly and Ernie MacMillan. He was surprised when he heard their take on what was happening, and was pleased to know that they were on his side. There was another element behind their voices, though, and he had to look into their eyes for quite some time before he realized what it was—it was fear.

_Ernie and Justin were afraid of me._

More appropriately, they were frightened of the power he was exerting throughout the classroom. Being in the memory as he was, he couldn't feel the effects of what was going on around him, but he could certainly see the reactions of his classmates. Girls and boys alike were shivering and shrinking back from him, attempting to hide behind one another to escape from the coldness of Harry's wrath. A Hufflepuff girl was shaking horribly in the arms of what appeared to be her Ravenclaw boyfriend, who was also sheltering one of their other friends sobbing behind them.

A sudden movement caught Harry's eye—it was when he had first thrown himself on top of Draco. He watched as his classmates leaned back and squinted, as if they had been blasted in the face by a harsh, hot wind. Evidently the coldness of his wrath had turned to hot, searing anger, and his classmates (along with Draco Malfoy) were taking the brunt of it.

He watched as the girls began to panic and scream- screams that he had not heard before, having been so intent on focusing his rage on Malfoy. He watched as Hannah Abott from Hufflepuff and Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin made the first moves and ran forward to try and pull him off Draco, only to be thrown ruthlessly into the wall by some invisible force. Pansy Parkinson and Amelia Zachmeister ran over to see if they were all right, and were both hit with flying stray hexes. Pansy's nose began to bleed profusely, and Amelia's cheek had a running gash that covered its length.

Harry didn't want to watch any more, but found that he couldn't bring himself to turn away. He wasn't even paying attention to himself and Draco's brawl any longer—all he could focus on were his classmates—his gaze was drawn to his classmates that kept getting thrown off when they tried to subdue him, or those that were hit hexes that hadn't connected with their intended recipient. Harry watched, unable to turn away as more and more destruction ensued. He was forced to see his classmates- his friends from the D.A., even, - shrink away and attempt to hide from his rage. It hurt. Harry's memory self hadn't known what was happening behind him, nor even in front of him. All he could concentrate on at the time was Malfoy.

Gazing around the dungeon, he saw people cowering, shaking in fear. Afraid of HIM. Afraid of what he was going to do to the Slytherin that had provoked him. He watched as Ron and Hermione came through the door smiling and laughing, closely trailed by Professor Snape. As soon as they fully entered the room, he saw their looks of laughter turn to looks of horror, and watched as Hermione disarmed Malfoy and Snape disarmed his Memory self. Turning to Ron, he saw not a look of fear, but a look of resolution and determination as he cast the _Movatus Nixus _charm to ensure that he, Justin and Ernie would be able to hold him down.

_I didn't know Ron knew that spell, _Harry thought to himself. _Did he learn it specifically in case something like this ever happened? No wonder Daphne and Hannah couldn't grab onto me. I was too powerful… exerting too much magical energy for them to get close enough._

The memory was drawing to a close, and Harry found himself once again looking towards people in turn to see their reaction. Hermione was confused, Ron looked as if he was trying not to break down, Ernie and Justin looked as if they were about to have their arms ripped off by Harry's struggles, Snape looked as though he wanted to ring both Harry and Draco's necks, and Dumbledore…

_Oh God. He's crying! _Harry's brain screamed at him. _Wait… but that's not his memory self! His memory self is just standing there looking all… disappointed and confused. But his real self—oh God._

Before Harry could make a statement, the memory ended, and Harry felt himself being pulled up back into the Headmaster's office and into the chintz armchair.

"Sir?" he whispered. "What is it—I—Sir, I'm sorry!"

Dumbledore only shook his head, and slowly wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Oh, Harry, no. Harry, it is I—**_I_**—****and I alone that should be sorry."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Albus's Secret 

"I don't understand, Sir," Harry replied, bewildered.

It didn't quite fit that the Headmaster should be sorry for he and Draco going wand to wand, but Harry wasn't going to leave until he got an explanation. He didn't have to wait long.

"Harry, not many people know about the duel between myself and Grindlewald."

Dumbledore stopped there, and Harry felt it appropriate to question.

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure I get your meaning. I mean, everyone knows about Grindlewald- it's on the back of your Chocolate Frog card."

"True as that may be, Harry, but even truer still is that everyone does NOT know that I came face to face with Lord Grindlewald more than once."

"Like I have with Voldemort?"

"Yes… and no. Unlike with yourself and Tom Riddle, the first duel between Grindlewald and I was planned, and planned by myself, not the Dark Force. I went to him, and I lost."

Now Harry was more confused than ever.

"Sir, how could you have—"

"I lost, the first time, because I let my anger get the best of me."

"Sir?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"It was not unlike what happened between yourself and Mr. Malfoy earlier today in Professor Snape's dungeon. Grindlewald provoked me with words, I attacked, and I lost."

Harry let out a large breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "What happened, sir?"

"I sought out the fight of the century, and I got it. After having been so provoked, I was in a complete rage, and dueled with vigor. Much like your friend Miss Granger came to you aide and stopped you… so my wife came to mine."

Harry's eyes widened. It had never consciously occurred to him before, but now that his Professor had mentioned it, it seemed almost obvious. Harry was sure that many people often wondered why Albus had never married, or, more appropriately, **wasn't** married, but no one had ever questioned why.

"What—what happened to her, sir?"

"She died attempting to save my life."

"I'm sorry, sir. …It—it was Grindlewald, wasn't it, sir?"

"No, Harry. It wasn't."

Harry paused, unsure as how to continue on such a sensitive subject, but Albus saved him the trouble.

"She arrived behind me. She alone knew I wasn't ready, and she alone knew how stubborn I was. She deduced that I would go to Grindlewald, and when she found me I was in a complete rage."

"Like I was earlier today, sir?" Harry managed to choke out.

"Exactly like you were, Harry. She tried to pull me out of the cave and my magical energy threw her off of me, just like—"

"Just like mine did to Daphne and Hannah," Harry supplied in a tortured whisper.

Dumbledore leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and rested his head in his hands for a moment, before sitting straight once more and removing his hat. As the Headmaster traced an aged finger along his forehead, Harry realized that he was feeling his scar. Instinctively, his right hand flew up and felt his own.

"I was angry, Harry. Furious, really, and I'm sure you can see why. I tricked myself into believing that it was Grindlewald that had killed her. Cursed her behind my back before I could see her, impaling her on a stalagmite.

"It took me years before I finally watched the memory in my Pensieve. Years, because I was afraid of the truth. I knew, deep down, that it was I that had killed her and not Grindlewald. When I finally faced it, it nearly destroyed me."

"So that's why you made me relive mine today, wasn't it Professor? So I wouldn't have time to shut it out?"

"Yes, Harry. And I know how painful it was for you. Luckily, no one was fatally injured, but I understand how much it must cause you pain to know what you had done."

"I never wanted them to be afraid of me, sir. I think that's what hurt the most. If my friends follow me in the D.A. because they're afraid of me, then it makes me no better than Lord Voldemort."

Dumbledore smiled, but it was halfheartedly. "That is exactly what I wanted you to understand, Harry."

Harry nodded, and prepared to depart, but stopped.

"There's something else you want to tell me, isn't there, sir?"

Removing his half-moon shaped spectacles, Dumbledore polished them on his robe.

"I can't seem to pull the wool over your eyes, can I Mr. Potter?" he smiled, bemusedly.

"No offense, sir," Harry began, "but no. You can't any more, and even if you could, I would ask you not to. Keeping things from me has only seemed to hurt the Order, and us, and I don't want to diminish our chances any further. We're only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. I believe you told me that."

Dumbledore paused in his absent-minded cleaning, and raised his eyebrows, staring directly into Harry's vivid green eyes.

"My my, Mr. Potter. You certainly have grown, haven't you?"

Harry paused, considering the Headmaster's words. "I think I'll talk that as a compliment, sir, but you're getting off the subject. You wanted to tell me something, and now you're just stalling."

Harry wasn't entirely sure, but reviewing the memory later on, he could have sworn he saw Albus Dumbledore pout.

"I see you're not to be distracted. Admirable, really, Harry, I must say. But yes, it is time I explained why I am sorry."

"About me and Malfoy's fight, sir?"

"No. Why I am sorry for what I've done. Not only to you, but to everyone."

Harry sat back, and patiently waited for Albus to continue, prepared to hang on every word.

"You do know, Harry, that I strongly abdicate the use of Unforgivable Curses, do you not?"

"I do, sir. I think everyone in the Wizarding World knows that, Professor."

"Quite right, Harry. But what everyone in the Wizarding World does NOT know is _why_."

Harry waited for a decent amount of time to pass before questioning softly, "Why is that, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Because, Harry, without me, there would be no knowledge of Unforgivable curses to begin with."

Harry blanched. How could it be possible? There was no possible way that Albus Dumbledore was the one who initially made the Unforgivables!

Dumbledore raised a hand to stem to the flow of Harry's many questions.

"You see, Harry, after I turned around to see Cassandra dead, my rage became all the more concentrated onto Grindlewald, and I cast what was to be the blueprint for what is now the _Avada Kedavra_ killing curse."

Harry felt his mandible become suddenly slack, and pushed it closed with his fingertips.

"It was not nearly as strong as today's curse, and so it was therefore deflectable by a strong wizard. Grindlewald was such a wizard, and cast a shield charm, and it rebounded upon myself, giving me the scar that you see today. A scar exactly like your own, not as deep, no, but still exactly the same. It was pain beyond pain, but it was nothing compared to the loss of my Cassandra. The last thing I remember of that duel is Grindlewald's laugh at my failure. Grindlewald's laugh at my own blunder killing the one I loved most."

"Oh, sir. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Harry."

"But, I—I'm not entirely sure I follow, sir. I mean, if you were the only one that knew about this… um, blueprint curse, then how did it become rediscovered?"

"Ah, I thought you might raise the question, Mr. Potter. And quite frankly, I'm glad you did—it saves me the trouble of having to bring it up."

Harry nodded, and prepared for another explanation.

"Do you remember when your first came across my Pensieve in your Fourth Year, Harry?"

Harry shivered, recalling the Dementors that had flanked Barty Crouch Jr. into the courtroom.

"Yes, sir. You said something about having 'put it away hastily' not having latched the cupboard properly."

Dumbledore hung his head. "Yes, Harry. And let you be the first to hear that it is not the first time I've done it, although it has since been the last."

Harry was afraid to ask, but he did any way. "What was the other time, Professor?"

"The other time…" he began slowly, "was about fifty-four years ago."

Harry's brain began rattling off the math faster than he could process it. As if on instinct, he blurted out—"You mean the year the Chamber of Secrets was first opened?"

"That is precisely the year, Harry. A young man, Head Boy, actually—"

"Riddle!" Harry cried, unable to contain himself.

"Yes, Harry. Tom Riddle. I had called him to my office to discuss possibly starting Animagus lessons with him—"

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock.

"Rest assured, Harry," Dumbledore continued calmly, "I gave him no such lessons."

The raven-haired boy relaxed visibly, and the Headmaster continued.

"I was called out of my office rather abruptly, just as he was arriving, and I asked him to please come back the next day, as I didn't think we would have time to continue that night. That was the night Myrtle Gravely was killed by the basilisk.

"I went with Headmaster Dippet to attend to the girl, and left it to Tom to head back to his dormitory. I ran into him once again later that night, and but that was an entirely different matter."

Harry recalled the memory he had witnessed through the Diary back in his second year, and everything that had happened afterward. He remembered how Dumbledore, then the Transfiguration teacher, had asked Tom if there was anything he had wanted to tell him. He remembered how Tom had lied, and remembered how he himself had also lied to the Professor in reference to the chamber. Shivering, he focused his attention back on the headmaster.

"I returned back to my office to find that my Pensieve had been used. I knew it was none of the other staff members, as they had all been with Headmaster Dippet and I dealing with Miss Gravely's parents, and immediately suspected Riddle, he having been the only other person near my office that night. Going back through it, I found the memory that had been accessed."

"Your first fight with Grindlewald?"

"The very one. It was then that I stopped trusting Tom Riddle. After Hagrid had been accused, I found out that the very accuser was the one and only Head Boy. As far as I was concerned, my suspicions had been confirmed. Tom Riddle was not to be trusted."

"So you think that Tom found the curse, researched it, and made it into Avada Kedavra?"

"I'm positive, Harry. There's no other way. I told no one of the first fight with Grindlewald. Everyone thought that Cassandra had been taken in the night and then killed by Grindlewald to get to me. I was too ashamed to correct them."

"I don't blame you, sir."

"I beg your pardon, Harry?"

"I said I don't blame you, sir. About the power. I know how you felt- I know how that power feels. There was nothing you could do—"

"I could have controlled it! I should have!"

"No, sir, you couldn't have. If it was anything like what I felt today, then there was no possible way you could have controlled your anger. So I don't blame you for using that curse."

"I do, Harry. If I hadn't used it, then—"

"Sir, PLEASE. What matters is that the second time around, **you** won. I think the only reason you DID win was because you had made that first initial mistake. You learned from your anger, and by doing so you were able to defeat the darkest wizard known at that time.

"When it came down to it, **you**, _Albus_- not Grindlewald- came out on top. You controlled it the second time, and you won. If you hadn't felt that anger in the first place, you would have never been able to harness the power that enabled you to defeat him. It happened for a reason, sir. Without that initial anger, you would have lost. THAT is why I don't blame you, sir."

"I—I don't know what to say, Harry. Other than I guess we both have made mistakes, and we both have apologies that need to be made."

Harry smiled. "Then don't say anything. And you're right, I have apologies to make, too. To everyone in my potions class, to Professor Snape… it won't be easy to do that one."

"It's good that you're going to, Harry. I wonder if it would be suitable to have Draco apologize as well, seeing as many of the curses that hit your fellow students were from him as well."

Harry shrugged. "If you see it fit, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I do. Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If my memory serves me correctly, did you just call me Albus?"

Harry blushed, and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, sir. I believe I did. But I only did it to stress a point because—"

Albus raised his hand to stem the young man's flow of excuses.

"Harry, please, do not apologize for that. In fact, I would actually prefer it if you would call me Albus when we talk, and I've been meaning to ask you to for quite some time."

Harry grinned. "Really, sir?"

"Really. Now, there's much more that I need to discuss with you, but at the present time, I feel it to be rather late. If you could head back to your dormitory, I shall arrange another meeting with you at a later date."

"Sure, sir. Any time."

"Thank you, Harry."

"Oh, um, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled. It surprised him how pleased it made him to hear his protégé finally calling him by his first name. He paused his rummaging through his lemon drop tin to look up.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can I call you 'Al'?"

Dumbledore wrinkled his nose, and glared at him. Picking up a lemon drop from his tin, he threw it at Harry's head, where it bounced off his nose.

"Hey!"

Albus laughed merrily, and then sighed, shaking his head with tears of laughter in his eyes. "Go to bed, Harry!"

"Goodnight, Al… bus."

Harry turned and disappeared down the spiral staircase. Back in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore smiled sadly, shaking his head.

"Goodnight, Harry… My protégé, my boy. …You're like the son I never had."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Detention With Draco 

Harry grumbled his way down to Snape's dungeon the following Saturday night, cursing himself for landing in such a predicament. Not only was he already miserable from lack of sleep throughout the week, he did not want to face an entire evening of cleaning off jars filled with disgusting substances with a person he considered to be one of the foulest on Earth.

'Stupid detention… Stupid Draco. Had to go and lose my temper, didn't I? Ugh… well, I guess I should just get it over with.'

Grudgingly, Harry pushed open the door to Professor Snape's classroom and made his way to the office. He found Draco was already waiting for him, and Snape sitting menacingly behind his desk.

"Well, Potter, hand over your wand and you two can get started. I trust that I shall still find my office in tact tomorrow morning? You wands shall be released from the glass casing as soon as all the bottles are cleaned to what is my predetermined satisfaction. Enjoy yourselves, boys."

Snape began to leave the office when he turned back to find both Harry and Draco glaring at him. As an afterthought, he added,

"Oh, and try not to kill each other, will you? Madam Pomfrey has enough to attend to after the way you two acted out the last time you were in the same room together."

Harry and Draco just glared, and Snape swept away. Tossing Harry a rag, Draco began to clean the topmost jars, leaving the lower ones for Harry.

"This is stupid really. It's not like this requires teamwork. I honestly thought someone of Professor Snape's intelligence could have come up with a better punishment," muttered Draco, to no one in particular.

Harry replied, also to no one in particular, "I can think of very few things that are worse than spending an evening alone in a room with you, Malfoy."

"What was that, Scarhead?"

"Nothing, Draco. Let's just get this over with, all right?"

"Fine by me. …And since when did _you_ start calling me Draco?"

"Since now."

Draco didn't seem to have a comment to Harry's lack of reaction. For a moment, he paused in his work to really look at the boy he had hated for as long as he could remember. Draco stopped, and put down the jar. How long _had_ it been, really? Why did he _really_ hate Harry Potter in the first place?

'_Lots of reasons, stupid. Let's not get into it,'_ he thought to himself, shaking his head and returning back to work.

Harry sighed, and placed his twelfth jar back on its shelf. Why did his head have to start hurting now? Of all times that he could possibly have an episode, why did it have to come on in front of Draco Malfoy? Harry ran his hands over his head, attempting to try and iron out the headache he felt coming on. When that didn't seem to appease it, he took his rag over to the Gargoyle on the wall and ran it under the icy jet of water. Placing it on his forehead, he waited a minute to see if it would help.

"What's your problem, Potter?"

"Nothing, all right? I just have a headache. It happens all the time now, but I've never felt one quite like this."

"Humph," Draco snorted, "I'd have a headache, too, if I had to share a common room with someone like Hermione. I bet she bugs you to study, study, study all the time."

Harry laughed, the cloth covering his eyes making him forget who had just said the last statement.

"Yeah, actually, she does make us study a lot. I suppose it helps out tho—"

He stopped in mid sentence, realizing what he had just agreed to. Removing the cloth, he bore into Malfoy's eyes.

"Where do you get off saying something like that, Malfoy? And since when do you call her anything other than 'Granger' or 'Mudblood'?"

Draco shrugged.

"Well, if you can call me Draco, then I suppose I should be able to call her by _her_ first name."

Harry harrumphed, and attempted to return to cleaning bottles. After a second he stopped, and replaced the cloth.

'_Oh no. Please, not now. Make the room stop spinning, please!'_

"What the **hell** is the matter with you, Potter? If you think I'm going to do all this myself you've got another thing coming!"

Harry shook his head, afraid to speak, fearing that if he opened his mouth he would retch all over the bottles and jars he had just cleaned. Removing the cloth from his forehead, he moved shakily to sit down in the only available chair- Snape's desk chair. Draco paused in his work to look at Harry.

"Um, Potter?"

"Hmmm?" mumbled Harry, attempting to will his headache into remission.

"Are you all right? You look like you're going to puke, and I just cleaned all those jars. Why don't you get your arse moving so we can get the hell out of here- I happen to have a date tonight."

Harry groaned.

"Look, Ferret, as _fascinating_ as your personal life may be, I **really** do _not_ need to hear about which unfortunate witch you're going to be shagging toni—"

Harry stopped in mid word, and retched into the bin on the side of Snape's desk. Draco recoiled- he had been reaching across the desk to punch Harry for his last statement, but the vomit made him decide otherwise.

"FUCK, Potter! What is the _matter_ with you!"

Harry rose, and leaned over the bin once again to retch. Pale, sweating, and shaking he raised his head to look Draco in the eye.

"I can't help it, all right? It just happens from time to time. Voldemort gets pissed and I get to take the pain for it."

Draco flinched horribly at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, and leaned over to smack Harry upside the head.

"Shut UP," he hissed. "Don't speak that name around me."

Harry glared stonily back into Draco's hazel eyes. Concentrating, he found in Draco's mind what he was looking for. Straightening up, he strode across the room till his face was inches from his worst enemy.

"_You're afraid_."

Draco blinked, clearly not understanding what had just happened. The closest thing he remembered to feeling like that had been—

'_Yeserday- when I feel on the twit in the hall.'_

"What are you talking about, Scarhead? Afraid of you _vomiting_ on me, maybe, yes! So back off, will you?"

Harry leaned in closer, grabbed Draco around the wrist and poured every ounce of energy he had into searching Draco's mind. His grip around the blonde's wrist began to intensify, and Draco could feel the heat radiating from the raven-haired boy.

"What the **fuck** are you playing at, Potter? _Let go of me!_"

Harry's grip loosened, and dropped- although this was no act of his own. Upon his loss of connection with Draco and his conclusion of the mind search, Harry began to shake. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his mouth began to salivate and drool. Draco attempted to back away and tripped on his robes.

"Potter? HARRY! _What the hell is the matter with you!_" he cried, attempting to slide across the floor from the twitching raven-haired boy.

Harry's green eyes continued to roll, and his limbs continued to shake. His mouth, however, had stopped drooling and he began to speak, in a voice completely unlike his own. Deep, scratchy, chopped and hoarse, the Boy-Who-Lived voiced something Draco could not believe he was hearing.

"_Separate the signs to end the war, now are divided, but together once more… Two in the now, and two in the beyond is how it shall be for the world to go on… Bound by a force that no one can break, finding a way for his life to take."_

Harry's body convulsed one final, extremely harsh time, and he dropped to the floor in a dead faint. Draco, who had remained on the floor throughout the entire time Harry had been speaking, gazed at the boy's limp form on the stone floor, his jaw nearly hitting the ground. Steadying his breathing, the disheveled blonde boy carefully crawled over to Harry Potter's limp form.

"Potter?" he whispered. "Are you all right?"

Leaning upwards to grab Harry's sopping rag off the Professor's desk, Draco draped it over the raven-haired boy's pale forehead. Despite himself, Draco found that he was slightly concerned. Surprisingly, it wasn't the thought that someone might come down and think that he had done something to Potter to harm him, but the thought that something might seriously be wrong with the boy who was still passed out cold on the stone flooring that was currently occupying his mind.

Several more minutes passed, and Harry began to groan. Opening his eyes he saw a blurred outline of what quite possibly looked like Draco Malfoy leaning over him and mopping his forehead with a cool rag.

'_That's impossible. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. There is no way the Draco Malfoy would willingly get this close to me, let alone touch me in a manner that wasn't violent!'_

Whoever the person was, they handed Harry his glasses and went behind him to help him sit up.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Where am I?"

Draco's jaw dropped once more. _'Oh shit, now he's gone and gotten himself Amnesia,' _he groaned inwardly to himself.

Out loud, he said, "Harry, you fainted. Well, first you said some really wonky shit, but then you passed out. Did you hit your head or something? We're in Snape's office and we're doing detention, remember?"

Harry turned his upper half around to see who was talking.

"Malfoy?" he breathed.

'_Oh good. No amnesia. Although, that could be arranged…'_

"Um, duh. Who else could look this good?"

Harry grimaced, "What happened, Malfoy? Oh, God, I can't believe I passed out in front of the Amazing Bouncing Ferret."

Draco laughed in spite of himself and the seriousness of the situation.

"Potter, I don't know what happened. One minute you were puking in Snape's bin, and the next your were twitching and talking in a voice that sounded nothing like you!"

Harry's eyes widened, "What do you mean, 'a voice that sounded nothing like me', Draco? How is that possible?"

"Search me. All I know is you said some really wonky shit."

Harry was pacing now. He had no idea what was happening at the present moment, much less what had happened before he had passed out. All he remembered was leaving the common room and coming down to do detention in Snape's dungeon. Racking his brains, Harry attempted to recall the events of the evening. He had entered Snape's office, the Professor had magically encased his and Draco's wands and then he had started cleaning jars. After that, nothing came to mind. Walking over to Draco, he grabbed his wrist.

"Draco, I need to know _exactly_ what happened tonight. Everything I said, **word for word**."

Almost instantly, Harry felt his grip on Draco's arm heat up, and the memory came flashing back. He had performed Legilimency on Malfoy, and had seen into his memories. All the he had seen in those brief moments of contact came flooding back, and he ripped his hand away from Draco's forearm, still feeling the heat radiating from it.

"Will you cut that out, Potter! Seriously, I don't know what happened! One minute you were retching all over the place, the next you were looking in my eyes and it felt like you were ripping into my head!

"After that you went all rigid and started shaking and then rambling on about 'separating the signs' and being 'in the beyond' and something about 'taking his life'. What the fuck was that all about, Potter?"

Harry blinked, trying to fully grasp what Draco was saying.

"Draco, are you trying to tell me that I made a _Prophecy_ or something?"

"Um, sure. Sounded like it, I guess, not that I would know! I don't take Divination!"

Harry glared at him.

"Oh yeah, Harry, I hear Prophecies being made all the time because I'm rich and a Pureblood. Call it a perk. _What the hell are you talking about?_"

Harry cradled his head in his hands, attempting to sort out the situation. Realization hit like a stunning spell, and he grabbed Draco by the wrist and attempted to pull him from the dungeon.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" cried Draco, struggling against him.

"We are getting the hell out of here! You need to tell me EXACTLY what I said! Do you have ANY idea how important this is!"

"Um, sure, whatever, but I imagine that it's not as important as both of us getting ANOTHER detention together because we didn't finish this one properly! No offense, Potter, but one night alone with you has been MORE than enough! I don't like spending time with freaks that pass out on me!"

"Ugh! You really are a complete GIT, aren't you, Malfoy? Fine- I'll clean the jars up and then will you promise to come with me?"

Malfoy grinned- it seemed like his night was looking up. "You mean you're going to clean ALL the jars yourself while I sit and watch, and then vanish the vomit in the bin, just so afterward I'll come and try to remember this so-called 'Prophecy' you just spat out?"

"YES!" cried Harry, desperately. "Whatever you want, will you just promise?"

"You got it, Scarhead. Take your time. I could get used to seeing you work while I'm doing nothing."

Draco waltzed over to Snape's desk chair and sat down in it, putting his feet on the desk.

"Knock yourself out, Potter. …Well- not literally. I don't want to deal with that again."

Harry groaned. Focusing his energy inward, he concentrated on the magic within himself.

"Scourgify!" he cried.

"What the hell Potter? Your wand is in the case, remember?"

Harry shrugged, and just pointed at the shelves. Draco sat up, and gazed at the sight that lay before him. Every single jar that the Potions Professor owned was sparkling clean, not to mention each shelf they stood on, the bin was empty of sick and the floors were gleaming as well.

"How in the name of Merlin did you do that?" Draco mused, completely beside himself with disbelief.

Harry shrugged, and refused to comment.

"Why the hell didn't you just do that in the first place?" cried the Slytherin. "We could have been out of here **ages** ago!"

"Um, earth to Draco? _Because none of the Professors really know I can do wandless magic_. If they did do you think they would LET me use it in detention? Doubtful. Snape especially would have a fit if he finds this out. So you best just keep your fat mouth shut about it all right?"

Draco nodded. "You've got yourself a deal, Potter. I wouldn't really mind having to do detention with you after this if you could just do it for us."

"How about we just don't get the detention in the first place?"

"Fine by me. Now I suppose you're going to make me keep my end of the bargain, huh?"

"Damn straight. Now follow me."

Harry grabbed both of their wands from the glass case that had magically disappeared upon the completion of the cleaning spell. Tossing Draco his, he made a swift exit from the dungeons and began nearly running up the stairs.

"Um, where are we going?" asked Draco, trotting to keep up with the Gryffindor boy, who was striding quite purposefully up staircases Draco had never even seen before.

"Gryffindor common room, of course."

"WHAT?" cried Draco, stopping dead in his tracks. "**No way**. Uh-uh. You are NOT taking me to that crazy place. There is no way I'm staying in the same room willingly with Granger AND the Weasel unless I _absolutely_ **_have_** to."

Harry grinned slyly. "Ah, but you DO have to, Ferret. You promised. And I'm sure that you noble Pureblood types take promises very seriously, don't you?"

Draco harrumphed, but followed in Harry's wake all the same. Upon reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry whispered the password so Draco wouldn't hear and marched him straight into the common room. Fortunately for the Slytherin it was rather late so the only people that were waiting up were Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

"Harry!" cried Ginny, happily, rushing over to greet him. "How was detention? I hope the Ferret didn't bother you too—"

A cough from behind Harry paused Ginny in her statement. Looking around Harry, she gasped.

"MALFOY? What in the name of Merlin are YOU doing up here?"

"Malfoy's here!" cried Hermione and Ron, rising simultaneously and rushing across the room.

Harry cringed, and his face reddened, but not nearly as much as Draco's.

"Look, something happened in detention, and Draco's the only one that can explain it. Wait here, and I'll go get my Pensieve."

Harry rushed up to the sixth year boys' dormitory, grabbed his Pensieve and rushed back down just in time to see the Slytherin sitting down in his favorite chair by the fire.

"Nope. No way, Draco. That's **my** chair. Out of it, Ferret. You can sit here."

Draco seemed surprised at the demanding tone the Boy-Who-Lived was carrying, but he obliged all the same and moved to the chair Harry had pointed to.

"Now, do you know how to work a Pensieve?"

Draco nodded, completely in awe that someone like Potter would have such a rare and valuable magical object.

"My father has one," he stated simply.

"Good. This will take less time then. Put the memory in there."

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all leaned forward intensely while Draco siphoned off his memory of the detention into the basin. As one, the five students each plunged a hand into the bowl, and were sucked into Draco's memory of earlier that evening.

It didn't take long after they returned from Draco's memory for Harry to send another message to Dumbledore, requesting a meeting as soon as possible. It also didn't take long for Hermione to head to the Library under Harry's invisibility cloak to begin researching "signs" and the like, dragging a yawning Ginny with her. As Hedwig was off hunting, Harry called down his Phoenix to take the message to the Headmaster.

"Is that really a Phoenix?" asked Draco, barely able to hide the fact that he was impressed.

"Yes," affirmed Harry, as he finished up his note.

Draco stood up, and walked gently towards the bird, and she perched on his arm as he stroked her feathers.

"Well well, you are beautiful. I hope Potter's taking good care of you."

She trilled in response, while Ron and Harry just stared. Harry's new pet didn't take to most people, and in fact had the hardest time becoming affectionate towards Ron. Harry could see her watching them both at night, and he sometimes wondered if she almost didn't want to get too attached to Harry's best friend.

"Of course he does!" cried Ron defensively. "She loves Harry, and Hedwig."

Draco raised a finely groomed eyebrow. "I see. So "she" likes the other bird. Has "she" got a name?"

At this, Harry and Ron both turned crimson. Harry sighed, defeated, and admitted that no, his new pet did not have a name yet, because he hadn't seemed to be able to find the perfect one.

Draco smirked, and carried the bird to Harry so she could grab the note. With a soft trill, and a flash of light, she disappeared.

"Quite useful, if you ask me," commented Draco.

Harry and Ron just stared, wondering why the Ferret was sticking around. For as much as he protested about coming to Gryffindor territory, he sure looked comfortable. After a few moments silence, Draco finally noticed that Ron and Harry were staring at him, as if willing him to leave.

"Ah, well. I see my promise is fulfilled. Need I stick around any longer, Potter?"

"No, I suppose not. Remember though- no mention of the wandless magic."

"ESPECIALLY to your cronies," added Ron, rather maliciously.

Draco smirked once again. "No need to worry about that, Weasel king. I rather enjoy having a secret about Potty to hang over his head. …You know, in case I need something."

Ron showed signs of starting forward, looking ready to give Draco another dose of why he had been put in detention in the first place, but with a light touch on the arm from Harry, he desisted. Malfoy raised his head, as if to say "and what were you possibly going to accomplish with that?" then turned toward the portrait hole.

"There'll be no need to worry about me mentioning any of tonight's happenings, Potter. I wouldn't want this to get out any more than you. Although, if you WOULD ever like to serve detention together again, just let me know. I find that your little talent could be quite useful."

"Don't mention it, Malfoy. I'll see you in class on Monday. Remember, we're starting Veritaserum. We'll both need to make sure Snape doesn't slip us any to find out how we got out of detention so fast."

Draco nodded in agreement. "That, and I'm sure he'd be most displeased to find out I spent so much time with the Golden Trio and the Weaslette."

"If you're talking about my sister—" began Ron, heatedly.

Draco raised his hands, as if to push away the animosity stampeding towards him.

"Now now, Weasel, I didn't say anything. If you want my opinion, I respect the little Weaslette. She's got spunk, and I don't know anyone in Slytherin that can bat-bogey quite as well as she can.

"And speaking of other Slytherins," he muttered, "they were right to say that she's filled out quite nicely."

Ron stood there, perplexed, still working through the first part of Draco's statement where he had complimented Ginny's hexing ability, but Harry was quicker.

"I think you've outstayed your welcome, Ferret. Not that you ever really were welcome in the first place."

Draco gave a mock little bow as he backed towards the portrait hole. "Right you are. And if you'd ever like to play some chess, Weasel King, you know where to find me. I've heard rumors, and I'd like to know how true they are. Would you fancy a tournament?"

"If you mean by tournament me kicking your arse in front of both our houses, you're on!" said Ron, excited for the challenge.

"I'll see to it then," grinned Draco. "Besides, I need to spend time with my little first year twit any way. I figured she could watch."

"Are you leaving, or what?" asked Harry, getting impatient.

Draco sighed, "Yes, Potter, I'm going. And yes, Potter, I will remember about the Veritaserum on Monday."

"Good, see you then."

Draco had finally made it to the portrait hole, and just when Harry thought he had been rid of him for the rest of the weekend, he stopped and turned around.

"Oh, Harry? That Phoenix of yours- you might try Sanguine. It means "useful to society" in Greek. Well, it also means blood, but still, it's the life force and is always running- immortal, just like a Phoenix."

Harry blanched. Not only because Draco had used his first name again, but the fact that he had genuinely offered advice. Truth be told, Harry ran the name over his tongue later that night and deemed it perfect.

"Oh. Um, well, thanks, Malfoy."

Draco nodded, and proceeded to step out of the portrait hole. Harry paused, his brain moving a mile a minute, but finally he made up his mind.

"Wait!" he called, and Draco turned around, with a surprisingly pleasant look of curiosity on his pale, pointed face.

Harry ran to his bag, and pulled out a spare bit of parchment. Tapping it with his wand, he whispered 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'.

"You'll want to avoid the entrance hallway, Filch is running around there with Mrs. Norris. Oh, and Peeves is on the third floor, probably unscrewing that chandelier again. I'd avoid that corridor, too."

Once again, Draco raised an eyebrow, and then nodded.

"Thanks, Potter."

"You're welcome, Draco."

With a soft swish of a finely woven cloak, Draco disappeared, and Harry cleared the map.

Turning to Ron, he asked, "Ready for bed? We'll need all the sleep we can get if Hermione's going to wake us at dawn to look through books she nicked from the restricted section."

"Sure," Ron replied, yawning. "I can't wait to kick Draco's arse at that chess tourney!"

Harry grinned. "I know I'll definitely be there. I bet it will be a lot more fun hearing the 'I am the chess master' song when it's directed at Draco instead of me. I bet Gin will, too."

Ron grinned lopsidedly, and shrugged. As the climbed into their four posters, Harry extinguished the torch with only a wink. Snuggling under his blankets, he smiled at the night's occurrences. All in all, it had preceeded well, and his head was feeling much better.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Ron?"

"When Malfoy was talking about my sister- saying how the Slytherins noticed she had 'filled out' or something?"

Harry groaned internally. "What about it, mate?"

"Was he talking about how much more confident she's gotten since the Chamber and everything? Like, how her confidence and spellwork has 'filled out'?"

Harry mentally snorted, but smiled and said only, "Yeah, Ron. That's exactly what he meant."

"Oh. Well, that was nice. Oh, bugger. The Ferret said something nice. How odd is that?"

"Very odd, Ron. Just make sure you kick his arse at chess for Gin, ok?"

"You got it, mate. G'night!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12: The Third Meeting**

Harry met Dumbledore in his office for tea the next Saturday afternoon, and brought Hermione with him. She seemed very nervous to share her theories about the Prophecy with the Headmaster, but assurance after assurance from Harry had her feeling slightly more confident.

"Fig Newton," muttered Harry, and the Gargoyle hopped aside.

"I don't think I can do this, Harry!" squeaked Hermione. "I mean, what if he thinks I've just gone around the bend, or if it's nothing he hasn't thought of before?"

"Hermy," consoled Harry, "you've just got to trust yourself. We all do."

Gulping a deep breath, Hermione steeled herself and marched up the stairway. A polite, but firm, knock on the door later and she and Harry were seated in two chintz armchairs opposite Dumbledore across his desk.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" twinkled the Headmaster. "A delightful surprise! And what, may I ask, is the occasion?"

Hermione's air immediately changed. Proper, formal and businesslike, she began pulling diagrams, graphs and numerous sheets of parchment from her bag.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, Harry and I have come to discuss possible interpretations of the Prophecy made by one, Sybill Trelawney, in the year of 19 hundred 80. It was come to our attention that not only is this Prophecy legitimate, but it concerns the fate of the world as we know it.

"I would like to relay to you my insights and concerns about said prophecy, and how Harry's role in it could change quite dramatically should a different interpretation be used."

Dumbledore seemed floored, and Harry tried hard to bite back a smile. He had no idea that Hermione would turn all "Muggle Lawyer" on the Headmaster to make herself feel more confident in front of him.

"Ah, um, please proceed, Miss Granger. The floor is yours."

"Thank you, sir."

Hermione rose from her chair, straightened her robes, conjured an easel and began what was unmistakably her presentation of the Prophecy, complete with visual aides. Tapping her wand on the blank sheet of parchment standing on the easel, her neat, slanted handwriting appeared.

Line I: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… _

"That just says that someone with the power to finish off Voldemort is coming near. The original interpretation concluded that someone would be born, but it clearly states that someone is "approaching". So, in all logic, it really could just mean that he (or she) with the "power" is approaching the room that Professor Trelawney and Professor Dumbledore are currently in."

A second tap of the wand, and more script appeared.

Line II:_ Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

"That somewhat changes the possible interpretations of the first line. When one first analyzes the prophecy, they could make the mistake, as I did, of keeping those lines together as if they were one, continuous sentence. But they're really not. It's almost a completely different train of thought.

"So, to me, this part says that a wizard (or witch, because at this point it's still gender neutral)- A wizard, but not necessarily THE wizard will be born to a set of parents that have defied Voldemort three times, and he will be born towards the end of July. That doesn't necessarily mean July 31st, just any time after the 15th, since that would constitute half of the month being over- thus, it "dying"."

Guesturing toward Harry, she added, "I think that you were just exceptional and extreme in this case, being born on the actual 'dying day'. I got a little stuck here, because, I mean, we don't really know what your or Neville's parents did that would be considered "defying him". That, and I didn't know of any other wizards born after the halfway point in July.

"It is also possible that the parents could have defied the person _with the power_ to vanquish the Dark Lord, and not the Dark Lord himself. Well, excluding those roadblocks, I pressed forward.

Line III: _And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

"Ok, literally this says that Lord Voldemort marks the baby (which we now know is a boy) as his equal. Equal to WHAT, we don't know though, do we? Equal in intelligence, power, evilness, blood, or what? We don't know! The only thing I could come up with is the fact that Harry can do a lot of things he can- Parseltongue, wandless magic, etc.

"And then there's the bit about power- if you're essentially EQUAL, how could you have a power that he doesn't know about? If you are equal, he must have this power as well, or else there would be no statement about equality in there at all.

"So that kind of made me think. Maybe we're looking at the wording incorrectly. To "know" could mean many different things. What could **Harry** _possibly_ have that could constitute as power, but the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to know it- that is, to know as in _understand_? Professor, you have always said that if there's one thing that Voldemort doesn't **understand**- and therefore underestimates- it's LOVE. That makes me think that Harry's "power the Dark Lord knows not" has something to do with love, or friendship even."

Leaning forward, eyebrows furrowed, Dumbledore was muttering to himself. Hermione paused, but when the Headmaster realized he was thinking aloud, he smiled, and nodded.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss Granger. Please continue."

A fourth tap of her wand, and the script once again changed.

Line IV: _And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._

"Well, of all, I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. Either Harry or Voldemort must die at the hand of the other. But that raises another question. This is what irks me about Divination. It's absolutely wooly, and raises more questions than it answers.

"Could the "other" be someone in fact OTHER than yourselves? This one had me going for quite some time. I mean- I was thinking about Neville being the possible other, since he was the other possibility to be "marked" since he was born at the end of July as well.

"Going back to simple English grammar, it states "either or, neither nor". I'm still a little stuck on that one, but it also seems to be thrown off a little by the last line a bit, too."

With one final flick, the visual aide made its final change.

Line V: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

"Now, to the casual observer, it seems like the first line repeats, but in a way it doesn't. The first line just says that the one with the "power" approaches, while this line says that one with the power "WILL be born as the seventh month dies." and nothing more.

"This line holds no gender reference, Professor. It could be anyone. It could be Harry, but it could also be someone that has completely nothing to do with Harry."

Hermione paused, as if wondering whether or not she could make her final statement. The statement that would bring the "Last Potter" theory come crashing down.

"Or," she concluded, timidly, "it could refer to someone having very much to do with Harry."

"How do you mean, Miss Granger?"

"If Harry's power is indeed Love, true, untainted, pure love, then couldn't it possibly be concluded that the one who will vanquish the Dark Lord might be a product of Harry's love? That is to say- Harry's child?"

Dumbledore's eyebrow arched pleasantly.

"Harry, is there something you wish to tell me?"

The boy in question immediately flushed to match the coloring of the Phoenix that was now perched on his knee.

"I, uh—no, Sir, I—HERMIONE!"

"No, sir. Harry has nothing of that sort he needs to tell you… right now any way."

"'Mione…" Harry warned.

"The point is, Headmaster, the whole act of lovemaking- that act of reproducing, making an heir. I can think of no better way than that to tap Harry's power. If he could know what it's like to experience undying love and devotion, then I think that would help him harness his power."

"I see. Please continue."

"When Harry and I discussed this last summer, he pointed out a crucial point. If, in fact, the ability to harness his power lies in understanding and experiencing unconditional love, then Lord Voldemort almost had him from the start. When Voldemort… murdered…" Hermione whispered the last word, as if saying it softly would make it hurt less for her friend,

"when he did that to Harry's mum, he ruined the chance Harry had to understand what it felt like to be loved unconditionally. That's why I came to the conclusion about Harry being on the OTHER side of that spectrum- the parental side.

"Now, I could be off completely, but all wrongness aside, I could find no way that it would hurt to try. If Harry should not be able to… complete his task, then I could see no one other than an heir of his having a better shot to finish what Harry started."

There was a long, but not uncomfortable, silence as Hermione packed away her things, shook the Headmaster's hand, and left the office.

"Miss Granger certainly has grown, has she not, Harry?"

"You have no idea, Profe—um, I mean, Albus. I apologize, though, I had no idea she was going to go all… Scotland Yard Prosecution on you."

Albus laughed, and Harry saw some of that old twinkle return to his eyes. Harry smiled, but pressed onward.

"What are we going to do then, Professor? I think Hermione could be right. It makes sense. Born as the seventh month dies, the 'love' power thing. It just makes sense. And, like she pointed out, it couldn't really hurt. …Could it, sir?"

The headmaster removed his half moon shaped spectacles and preceded to polish them on his robes.

"No, Harry, I don't believe it could. I do believe that this might be a logical step at this point. There are ways that we could ensure that your surrogate mother would be protected long after carrying the child to term, and could also arrange that she carry the child without need of… shall we say… consummation?"

Harry blushed.

"I understand that, Albus."

"Do you have any idea of who might be willing to do this for you, Harry? I know Severus will be more than able to produce the necessary potions, but of course, as I'm sure you know, it does take… shall we say, 'two to tango'?"

Harry blushed, and mentally resigned the fact that his face might just continue to remain a rather bright shade of crimson if this conversation were to continue much longer-, which it undoubtedly would.

"Professor Dumbledore- I think you and I both know that I would have no other woman than the one you are thinking of, despite the fact that you won't admit it."

Now it was the Headmaster's turn to blush.

"Ah. I see. You will have no other then?"

"None. There will be no negotiation on that particular aspect. As to where, when and how- of course I understand that this must be planned properly, sir. But that leads me to another concern."

"And what is that, Mr. Potter?"

"Ginny is a year behind me in school. I couldn't imagine asking her to go through this for me unless absolutely necessary. For her to go through nine months of carrying a child- the ridicule, the danger- I won't even ask her unless you feel it is the only way."

"That is a lot to ask, Harry. The "only" way? There is no way that I could possibly be sure of that."

Before Harry could possibly let the weight of this statement sink in, Albus continued.

"However, Harry, yes. I have complete faith in Miss Granger's logic and reasoning skills. I believe it appropriate to say that, were I to be in your position, I would do the same thing. One can never be entirely sure, but it is always best to cover as much ground as possible.

"Clearly, yourself and Miss Granger have thought of this from as many conceivable angles you could find, and I must say that I can't imagine how hard it was for you. You have never ceased to impress me, Harry. I want you to know that."

Harry smiled shallowly, willing himself to keep breathing.

"But sir, I guess, what I mean is… um, I, uh… Ginny,"

"Come, Harry. Anything you have to say couldn't possibly be more embarrassing than what we've already discussed, can it?"

_Curse this infernal redness_, thought Harry miserably to himself as his face flared up once more. Dumbledore had a point. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"Sir, is there any way- any charm, potion, spell, _anything_- that would enable the pregnancy to be delayed unless _completely necessary_?"

Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully down on the boy that was being so considerate of the situation, and how it could affect a certain Miss Weasley's life. Considerate of another, even though the boy knew that should he fail, his child quite possibly would be the last hope of all humanity.

"Ah, I see- a 'delayed conception', if you will? A way to insure that the fetus would _only_ begin to develop if all else was to fail."

"Exactly. I wouldn't want to make her go through that unless there was no hope left. So, do you think it's possible? Is there a way to delay conception until… well, until it seems that I will no longer be here?"

"We will find a way, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor."

The boy sighed. "Now all I have to do is somehow convince Ginny to be the father of my – Oh God. I can't believe it. I'm really going to be a daddy if we go through this."

Albus laughed. "Yes, Mr. Potter, being a daddy is generally the result of impregnating a young woman."

Harry began to chuckle with him- but suddenly, he stopped, the full weight of the course of action he was about to take set itself upon him.

"Actually, Albus, it's not."

"Not, Harry?"

"Not for me," he said sadly. "If the conception will only take place if I do not survive, then it seems that I will never be… a 'daddy'."

Dumbledore's forehead wrinkled as his eyes widened in realization of the truth his favorite pupil was speaking.

"Ah. Well, Harry, I suppose in a sense that is true. But let us just make it so that it will not happen, and you will be able to have children and watch them grow."

Rising, Harry replied, "I guess so, Albus. Will you excuse me, though? I need to go think of a way to break this to Ginny."

"Of course, Harry. If you need anything, just send that remarkable owl of yours. She'll know where to find me."

"Thanks, Albus," he replied, and with a soft swish of his robes Harry disappeared down the spiral staircase.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 13: A Plan of Action**

Novermber had arrived, and with all the complaints about no formal statements being made regarding Quidditch, Dumbledore was forced to make his final announcement.

"I understand that there have been numerous complaints to the Heads of Houses regarding the lack of Quidditch this term," he began, and there was a murmured agreement from the student body.

"I also understand, as it was pointed out to me by my Deputy Headmistress, that it would be inadvisable to withhold our substitute plans any later than this date. I am sure that you are all well aware that Lord Voldemort has indeed risen again, with a larger threat than ever on our society, and our world, as we know it.

"I have deemed it appropriate at this time to raise a call and a plan for action from all willing and able students. To define more clearly, all those students that constitute "able" would be those in fifth year and above, and those that would constitutes "willing" would be any of those in our esteemed younger classes that wish to participate.

"The Heads of Houses, myself, and all our other reputable staff members have already appointed specific leaders and captains to take order of these groups and, given your consent, of course, we would be ecstatic to have you take control of your area of defense. I am sure that you would like to know what these specific areas are, and so I will now step down off of my soap box, and let the program Professors explain them to you."

There was rapt silence in the hall; no one had expected this. The members of the D.A. had been informed (during a private meeting) a very general outlook by Harry, but even Harry himself was not entirely sure as to what schemes Dumbledore had dreamed up. The students focused their attention once more on the staff table as tiny Professor Flitwick stood up, and began to speak.

"Good evening. Professor Snape and myself will be heading the "Department of Defensive Charms and Potions". This particular group will focus on researching new charms to protect not only the school by strengthening its wards, but also the students by developing Disillusionment charms and Healing Potions.

"This group is key, because its success will rely on the most reputable researchers and preeminent potion makers this school has to offer. It will require many additional hours of study time, and is not to be taken lightly. This will be the largest of our groups, and will require the most student leadership.

"Our pre-appointed heads will work hand in hand with the Dueling Coaches, and must master charms of great complexity, in order to insure that those competent enough will be able to cast them strongly and correctly. Whether you accept or decline the responsibility will you please rise and state your intentions. Professor Snape and I have nominated the following students."

Professor Flitwick returned to his seat, while Professor Snape rose and began to read off a list of names.

"From Ravenclaw House: Miss Cho Chang."

Cho stood, her back proud and straight. Looking towards the Gryffindor table, she caught Harry's eye and gave him a smile and a nod as if to say 'I never could have done this without your training last year'.

"I accept."

"Also from Ravenclaw House: Angelo Braddock."

Angelo stood, shaking his long hair out of his eyes, and nodded. "Count me in."

Cheers ensued from the Great Hall, with Ravenclaw being the loudest of all.

Snape cleared his throat and continued, "From Hufflepuff House: Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchly."

"I accept."

"Also from Hufflepuff: Miss Isabelle Newton."

"Accept."

Applause ricocheted off the walls of the hall, and Snape waited for silence before he continued.

"From Slytherin House: Miss Daphne Greengrass."

Daphne rose, and stared down the table at her housemates, many of whom were glaring at her with contempt. Raising her nose at them all, she proclaimed loudly, "I ACCEPT!"

Snape nodded at her, and Harry felt almost sure that he had spoken with his House's appointments prior to Dumbledore's announcement. Harry couldn't blame him. He knew that many of them were putting their very lives in jeopardy by openly proclaiming their allegiance with Dumbledore.

"From Slytherin House: Mr. Draco Malfoy."

"Decline."

Snape raised his eyebrows. Apparently, Harry thought, this was not supposed to happen.

Draco rose, and stated once again, "I decline, sir, on the account that Blaise Zabini is by far better at potions than myself, and nominate him in my stead."

Snape looked surprised, but nodded. "Very well, then. Mr. Zabini?"

"I accept."

"Moving on. From Gryffindor House: Miss Katie Bell."

"I accept!"

"Gryffindor House: Miss Hermione Granger.

Hermione rose, and smiled at her mentee over at the Ravenclaw table. "I accept, sir."

"Excellent," muttered Professor Snape. "Madam Hooch, you make take the floor."

There was a chorus of cheers for all those that would be heading the Potions and Defensive Charms team, and the flying coach stepped forward, looking as though she had just flown through the window on her broomstick.

"Evening! I represent the "Escape" portion of our Defense. I require the top flyers from every house to be with me, so we can plan an escape route, run drills and teach younger students how to fly evasively in the event of an attack.

"For this term the First Year Broomstick Ban has been lifted, and any and all students that are able to obtain a broom from home are asked to bring it with them when they return from Christmas Holiday.

"The Escape Group will require much patience and concentration, as well as leadership skills from all that are appointed. You will be responsible for nominating one person from your house to help you manage your group, and all groups shall be composed of students from all four houses so as to confuse any attackers.

"Each group will meet at a designated point in the castle, and drill from that point every time. Captains will establish a buddy system and will be expected to make and execute any decisions regarding those that have fallen behind.

"From Gryffindor House: Mr. Ron Weasley."

"I'm your man, Madam Hooch!"

There was a trickle of laughter that coursed its way through the hall.

"I nominate my sister, Ginny Weasley to be my Co-Captain."

"I have no objection to your nomination. Miss Weasley, do you accept?"

"You bet I do!"

Ginny leaned over the table and gave Ron a hug. "Thanks, big brother."

"I wouldn't have anyone else, little sister."

"Oh, thanks!" muttered Harry, sarcastically.

"Come off it, mate!" cried Ron, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You know they're going to want you to teach people to duel!"

"I don't know, Ron. I think they might only let Professors do that. It's a lot of responsibility, and I don't think the other students would trust just any old classmate. I know I sure—"

"Pay attention, you guys!" cried Hermione, applauding enthusiastically. "They just picked Lucy Everglade and Mina Hall from Hufflepuff!"

"From Ravenclaw: Mr. Michael Corner."

"I accept, and I nominate Dave Galaspy for my Co-Captain."

"Mr. Galaspy, do you accept?"

"O' course I do!"

"Good. From Slytherin House: Evan Urquhart."

"Accept. Draco Malfoy."

"Mr. Malfoy?" asked Madam Hooch tentatively. She seemed frightened that Malfoy would decline again.

Malfoy stood, gazed down the table and sighed. To Harry it seemed as if he was debating on whether or not his "honor system" could uphold with turning down a position of leadership more than once.

"I accept."

"Wonderful! I'm all set," concluded Madam Hooch, taking her seat. "Professor Luenebraum, if you please."

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stepped forward, looking slightly apprehensive. Harry zoned in on his face, and saw he was sweating. It was most odd- Bertram Luenebraum was from an island in the Pacific Tropics, so Harry didn't understand why he would suddenly start to perspire in the middle of November in Northern Scotland.

Harry had attended several classes with the new Professor, and had liked him very much. Bertram, Harry found, had extremely extensive spell knowledge and nearly lightening-quick reflexes. The best thing that he liked about the new defense teacher, however, was not his skills or knowledge, but the fact that he treated Harry like any other student, something that the Boy-Who-Lived had appreciated immensely.

But something wasn't right, and Harry knew it from the moment the man had taken leave of his seat

"What's the matter with him?" whispered Hermione, concernedly to Ron. "He looks like he's about to curse— Harry!"

Professor Luenebraum had barely raised his wand when Harry had jumped halfway clear across the hall and landed in between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. A foreboding green energy was beginning to loom at the edge of the Professor's wand, and Harry knew he had not even a moment to act. Raising his hands in front of him, he roared:

"_Theca Arma Alarius!_"

The Professor was lifted from his feet, and bound in a golden light. Harry summoned the man's wand with the beckoning of his finger, and then released the spell with a wave of his hand. Striding forward, he raised Bertram Luenebraum's own wand to his throat, and spoke vehemently,

"You think I would let you get away with this? The _Ultimatus Bombarda_ hex? Did you honestly think that you could pull this off in front of Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard alive?"

Professor Luenebraum breathed what seemed to be a sigh of relief, before Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Let him up, Harry."

Harry averted his gaze toward the Headmaster, but did not lower Luenebraum's wand.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. Harry held out his hand, and helped the Professor to his feet. Luenebraum pulled a handkerchief from his robes and mopped his forehead.

"I told you Dumbledore, I told you I didn't want to do it."

To Harry's (and the entire student body's) astonishment, Dumbledore was laughing merrily.

"Ah, yes, Bertram. But tell them why."

Professor Luenebraum nodded, and once again turned to face the crowd.

:"As you can see, for reasons _none other_ than those demonstrated here, I will have no other than Mr. Harry Potter be the head of the Dueling and Defensive Spellwork branch of our Protection Plan. He is obviously the best candidate, and if the skills he just demonstrated are not enough to convince you then I encourage you to see Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. She, I'm sure, will have something to cure whatever has blinded you to his extraordinary light."

A thunderous applause broke out from the hall, shaking it to the rafters. Harry nodded, and shook the Professor's hand as a show of his acceptance, while the cheering of the crowd seemed as if it would never stop, with many of the D.A. members standing on the tables and benches, screaming their approval. Walking past Dumbledore on the way back to his seat, Harry gazed into his eyes for the briefest moment.

'_An evil, evil trick, Albus. You wouldn't have happened to have been in Slytherin house when you were at school, would you?'_

The Headmaster merely smiled benignly as he applauded, and replied _'I plead the fifth, Mr. Potter.'_

Harry grinned, and headed back to his seat next to Ginny while Albus made his final statements.

"Thank you to those who have pledged their participation. Full details of the program will be discussed after Christmas Holiday, with group leaders being informed of their priorities beforehand. I cannot stress to you enough how important these new Defensive tactics will be for your safety, and insist that you take them most seriously.

"This concludes our announcements, and I am sure that you are all ready for bed. As a thank you for listening to us so long, I will have hot chocolate sent to your rooms. Thank you for your attention, and goodnight."

There was a large scraping of chairs as they all headed back to the doors of the Great Hall, many of the older students waiting until the rush had cleared. Harry and many of the D.A. members were among the last to leave, and right before he had reached the door, Harry stopped.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ginny.

"It's Dumbledore, he called me."

"No he didn't. And if he did, how could you hear him over all this—"

"Shh, once second, Gin, please?"

'_Oh, Harry?'_

'_Yes, sir?'_

'_Good show, Harry. Good show.'_

Harry smiled.

'_Thanks Albus.' _

Turning back he asked, "You ready to go, Gin?"

"Yeah. What was that about?"

"Albus just said goodnight."

"In your head?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Something like that. I could teach you, if you'd like."

"To get inside your head? I don't know Harry… I can read your mind enough as it is."

"Oh really?" he asked, holding open the door to the fourth floor for her.

"Really."

"I see. And what am I thinking right now, Miss Weasley?"

"Harry…"

"Come on, Gin!" he pleaded. "Tell me what's in my head."

Ginny smiled mischievously. "I think the North Tower might be empty, don't you?"

"Why, Gin, you divine little witch, I do believe you read my mind!"

Grinning devilishly, Harry whipped his invisibility cloak out of his bag and threw it over them while Ginny grabbed the Marauder's map from the outside pocket. Winking at each other, they placed their wands on the parchment and whispered,

"_We solemnly swear that we are up to no good."_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14: The Most Dangerous Mission**

Harry had met with Professor Luenebraum several times over the next two weeks to discuss tactics for Battle Training, and was getting more excited by the day. He had thought that teaching the students defense training under the nose of Umbridge had been glorious, but had soon come to realize that it was nothing compared to the elated feeling he was getting now that he had the entire staff of Hogwarts supporting him.

Christmas Holiday was drawing nearer by the day, and Harry had a long list of tasks he needed to accomplish before it arrived.

'_First thing's first,'_ he thought to himself, as he settled down with a sheet of parchment.

Ron had been his best mate for nearly six years now and Harry still found it hard to decide what to give him for Christmas. After Hermione's birthday, Ron went on for days about how well Harry's Firebolt handled, and though he "still liked his Cleansweep", he couldn't help but compliment the Firebolt Broom Line and how it was manufactured. This had given Harry an idea. He knew that Ron would never accept a new broom as a gift, and Harry would never dream of insulting Mr. And Mrs. Weasley by buying him one. Harry did think, however, that he could overcome this difficulty and make sure his best mate got the Christmas gift he deserved, without offending the Weasleys' financial situation.

Loading up his quill with ink, Harry sat down to write his letter to the Firebolt Broom Line Company. Ron was always concerned about money and ways to make it. He had even thought about working the Holiday in the twins' shop for an extra bit of pocket money. After hearing Ron rave aboutthe Fireboltfor weeks on end, the perfect idea came to Harry: he would write the Firebolt company and buy stock in Ron's name. With the knowledge that many Hogwarts students would be purchasing new brooms over the Holiday for the new Escape Plan, Harry thought it would be an ingenious way for Ron to make money. While he was at it, he though he might as well buy some shares for himself as an investment.

Finishing up his letter, he called Hedwig down to him and attached it to her leg, along with a note to Gringotts to have them forward the appropriate amount of gold from his now much larger vault (thanks to his inheritance from Sirius) to the Firebolt Broom Line's stock account. On the bottom of the note, he had included a postscript informing the goblins to expect some additional purchases to be made at other stores, and to pay the shopkeepers accordingly. Taking his snowy owl to the window and wishing her a safe flight, Harry sat down with his quill, ink and parchment and began two more letters: one to Miss Amanda, at "Miss Amanda's Antiques and Amour", and another to Madam Malkin, owner of the finest robe shop in Diagon Alley. Taking these over to Sanguine, he smiled as his Phoenix took them in her beak and flashed away in a brilliant burst of emerald flame.

Having completed his Christmas shopping (albeit, via owl- and phoenix-post), Harry mentally looked at his list, and realized that the most difficult things were coming up. Jumping off his bed before he could get too relaxed, Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak, bag and winter gear, and headed out the portrait hole to Dumbledore's office. Ron, Ginny and Hermione were out having the first snowball fight of the season in the courtyard, but Harry had told them he couldn't join because he had a meeting with the Headmaster that afternoon. It was true, he was meeting with Dumbledore but it had been he, not the Headmaster, that had arranged the meeting.

Bounding up the stairs to Albus's office, Harry found the door open and the Headmaster donning a Muggle winter coat, apparently waiting for his arrival. At his side was Nymphodora Tonks, who greeted Harry with her usual "Wotcher," and a grin.

"Ready to go, Harry?" asked Albus.

The boy grinned, nervously. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He watched as Tonks morphed her appearance, with the ending result being a short, toad-looking woman with dark curly hair sporting a large bow and a pink cardigan.

"Verry funny, Tonks," snorted Harry, as he watched an unmistakable replica of Dolores Umbridge fade before his eyes into a sweet faced, elderly Grandmother that joined hands with the Headmaster.

"Oh, Alby," she crooned, "are we really going to Muggle London?"

Even Albus couldn't hide a smile. "Yes, sweetums, we are."

Harry gagged. "Honestly, if you two keep this up I won't bother with my Invisibility cloak. I'll be laughing too hard, and I'll blow my cover."

Tonks stuck out her tongue at Harry, and tapped an old mirror with her wand, which glowed blue and vibrated in her palm for the briefest second before sitting normal once again.

"Wotcher, Harry. Put your cloak on now, and I'll activate the Portkey when you give me the go-ahead."

Harry nodded, and donned the cloak. When he had a firm finger on the mirror, he said, "ready", and felt the hook behind his navel carry him, along with an Auror and Hogwarts Headmaster, into the thicket of Muggle London.

Arriving in a back alleyway, Harry adjusted his Invisibility cloak to make sure it was covering him entirely after their trip, and he, Tonks and the Headmaster walked into the shopping district of London. Tonks was playing her part perfectly and if Harry hadn't known better he could have sworn that she and Albus were a well to do, elderly married couple out to do their holiday shopping together. Gazing around him at the wide variety of shops, Harry's eyes widened in wonder.

"Where do you want to head first?" Tonks asked, as if speaking to Albus.

Suddenly, Harry heard the Headmaster inside his head again, just like he had after the announcement of the new Protection Plans.

"_I think it would be good exercise for you to speak telepathically with me today, Harry. That, and it will make it a lot less obvious that you're walking between us if you're not talking."_

"_All right, sir. But how did you figure out that I could speak… what did you call it? Pathitelly?"_

Albus laughed aloud.

"Am I that amusing today sweetie?" asked Tonks, batting her eyelashes.

"Hmmm? Oh, I was just laughing at a pigeon, my little Cauldron Cake."

Harry groaned. They were doing this to torture him, he just knew it.

"_It's kind of the opposite of Occlumency, Harry,"_ Albus continued. _"You're fairly decent at shutting down your emotions, but you're better at opening them. So, since you're on the high end of the emotional spectrum, and a pretty powerful wizard for your age, speaking telepathically with people you trust is easy for you._

"_Don't worry about your Occlumency shields dropping, Harry," _Dumbledore said calmly, easing Harry's fears before he could even think them, much less speak them_. "This is completely separate, you have no need to fear."_

"So where to, sweetie?" asked Tonks brightly, taking Dumbledore's hand, and grasping a bit of Harry's cloak with her pinky, to make sure she could feel him between them.

"Wherever you'd like, pumpkin."

Harry snorted. "Cut it out!" he whispered. "Merlin, I don't know why I agreed to this."

Sighing, he resorted back to speaking with his mind.

"_Let's head to a store called Sach's. I'll never forget that name. When my Uncle Vernon gets my Aunt Petunia gifts he always shops there. She brags about it constantly, so it must be good."_

Harry didn't have to be in Sach's for long to realize that it was not the store for him. Granted, there were a lot of pretty things, but Harry didn't think that Ginny would like them. They just weren't special enough. Harry had thought about going back to Madam Amanda's in Diagon Alley, but after speaking with Dumbledore about it, he reasoned that it might not be the best idea. By shopping in Muggle London, Harry had a much easier time concealing himself. That, and he thought that any gift he could get Ginny that was Muggle would undoubtedly impress Mr. Weasley very much.

Albus and Tonks had made the plans to head into London's high streets under the guise of checking the city's magical defenses and dark detectors for the Ministry, and seeing if they needed improvement. The real reason they were there, however, was to help Harry on a very important, yet delicate, errand. Tonks' presence was key. Not only could she help protect him as an Auror, but also her ability to change her appearance at will would enable Harry to make sure he got the right size on the first try.

Yes, Harry Potter was on a mission of the most dangerous kind. He was in London to buy a gift for his girlfriend.

Two hours and several stores later, Harry and company settled down to have a brief lunch. While Tonks and Albus seemed to be having a great amount of fun, Harry was getting increasingly frustrated. He had been to what seemed to be every shop in London and hadn't found a single thing, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Tonks got a huge laugh out of going into stores and hearing Albus say something to the like of "My little Pumpkin Pasty and I have been thinking that she doesn't have enough expensive things. We need something the granddaughters will fight over in the will," and then proceeding to try on half the things in the shop, with Harry not liking a single one.

Sighing, Harry sipped his drink under his cloak as Tonks and Dumbledore discussed battle tactics. Gazing around the street through the window, Harry wondered if he'd ever find something. They walked further down the street after lunch, and found a few smaller stores that Tonks thought would be worth looking into. The first one they entered was called "The Rough".

Harry was getting impatient. The shopkeeper and his assistant were very nice, but Harry got the feeling they were hiding something. Reaching into his moneybag, he pulled two one hundred pound notes from it, set them on the counter in front of Dumbledore and waited. The assistant was busy chatting with Tonks as she began trying on several items, and the manager was overseeing her. As if the shopkeeper had a sixth sense, the instant Harry's money hit the counter he hurried towards Albus, who was innocently humming something that sounded suspiciously like "Weasley is our King" and staring at the ceiling. The shopkeeper grinned jovially as he pocketed the bills.

"Sir?" he queried to Albus. "Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to our private viewing room?"

Albus broke out of his daydream. "Hmmm? Oh, yes. Of course."

Harry grinned. Silently, he thanked the Weasley twins for telling him about how they had gotten the idea for the 'Special Purchasers' room in their Joke Shop. Giving the Headmaster a slight nudge in the back, Harry followed behind him and the shopkeeper to a door in the back corner of the room.

"I'll just be a moment, dear," Albus called sweetly to Tonks, who was giggling with the salesgirl as she held a pendant up to her ear.

Harry gagged internally. Girls and jewelry. He had never seen Tonks so giddy in his life, and he never wanted to again, but he did file it away in his memories for blackmailing purposes. He was never going to let her forget how she had started humming to herself inside Harrods and declaring that the rings were 'singing' to her.

The shopkeeper turned on the lights in what turned out to be a very small, but what Harry deemed must be a very pricey room. Offering Albus a large, comfortable looking chair, the manager hurried around and began pulling out specific pieces from their locked cases and bringing them over, while Harry wandered around the room, blinded by all the shimmers.

"_Albus_," he called.

"_Yes, Harry?"_

"_Ask him what's in the red box."_

A brief hand appeared to be floating over where Albus thought Harry's head must be, and then it disappeared.

"Ah, my good man," Albus began, as he pretended to be interested in the Solitaire the shopkeeper was now showing him, "these _are_ lovely. But I am curious, and I find myself drawn to the small red box on the shelf over there. I wonder if I might have a look?"

The manager raised a surprised eyebrow, and bowed before he carefully retrieved the box from its shelf.

"Sir, I knew you had a keen eye, but I must admit, I never thought it would be that keen. To have spotted this box from where you are sitting, sir… it must have called to you. This particular piece hasn't been removed from its shelf in nearly sixteen years. "

Harry leaned over behind the chair Albus was sitting in, and gazed breathlessly into the red velvet.

"**_Sir… it's perfect."_**

Dumbledore smiled, and nodded his agreement.

"I'll take it."

The shopkeeper sized it while Dumbledore waited, and Harry leaned over the counter to watch as he worked. It was perfect for Ginny, and he knew she would love it.

"So the last time it was looked at was sixteen years ago, you said?" inquired Albus.

"Oh, yes," answered the shopkeeper, as he began to carefully buff and polish. "I remember it like it was yesterday. A young man came in- couldn't have been twenty five- and said he wanted a gift for his wife. Said they were going to have their first son in a few months- July, I think he said- and he wanted to get her something special."

At the mention of this, Harry gave his rapt attention to what the shopkeeper was saying.

"Is that so?" mused Dumbledore. "And he didn't take it?"

The manager shook his head, as he examined the gift under a magnifying glass, to make sure he hadn't missed any spots.

"No, he didn't. He took one look at it, whistled, and said that as much as he wanted it, it "wasn't for him". He bought something else, but before he left he asked to look at it one more time."

"Did he now?"

"Yes. I obliged him, naturally, and he had this sad kind of smile on his face when I closed the box. I asked him if he was satisfied with his other purchase, and was he entirely sure he had made the right choice."

Harry's breath hitched in his throat. He shook his head, attempting to clear it, thinking that he must be letting his imagination be running away with him. The manager continued.

"He assured me that he was definitely satisfied, and I didn't blame him. The item he had ended up selecting was one of a kind, and so, he assured me, was his wife. Said something about how the box was red, just like her.

"I didn't really get his meaning, so I asked, and he said his wife was a red head. The "most beautiful you could ever see", but he claimed that he knew this box wasn't for _his_ red head, that it was for someone else's.

"Say, sir, your wife? Was she a red head when she was younger?"

Albus nodded, natural as could be, and looked in what he assumed must have been Harry's direction.

"Aye, that she was. I met her when I was eleven, and I loved her from the moment I saw her."

Harry nodded under his cloak, even though he knew no one could see it.

"Eleven? You don't say? I'm sure she'll love it, sir. Seems funny, but it makes me feel happy to know that other bloke was right- it did go to a red head, after all.

"You know, now that I think about it, he said he'd come back to buy more gifts for his wife, but I never saw him again. Figured maybe he was just being nice. Had the messiest black hair I ever saw. I imagine his son would too."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Well, here you are, sir," said the shopkeeper, handing over the carefully wrapped parcel. "She's yours for the keeping."

Albus handed him the Gringotts automatic debit card that Harry had given him at the start of the day. It worked just like a Muggle credit card, and automatically took the correct amount of gold from your vault, converted it to the appropriate currency and accredited the shop where you made the purchase.

Handing the card back to Dumbledore, the manager smiled and said, "Thanks for your purchase, Mr. Potter. I hope to see you again!" and Harry and Albus left the room.

Grabbing Tonks away from the sales girl, they said their goodbyes and headed into the alley next to the store.

"Did you find something, Harry?" Tonks asked, as she tapped the mirror with her wand once more.

"Yeah…" Harry mumbled. "I definitely did."

Sitting back on his bed that night, Harry drew the curtains and examined the ring he had finally decided to purchase. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he stared at it breathlessly before he whispered,

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?"

He smiled contentedly to himself: it had been a very productive Saturday.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Thanks so much to all my reviewers! I, like everyone else that write fanfiction, am a 'review slut'. I love to hear your comments and so I thought I'd reply to them (like I do at Mugglenet) as a thank-you and a way to sneak in hints... I love the things people come up with! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed- I love hearing from you!

Kristen Sirius Black: Thanks so much! I like working humor in, but it's getting harder every chapter in this story... watch out for it- we're about to go on a huge roller-coaster! Thanks for reading!  
Color of Angels: Thank you so much! There's a LOT more twists coming up, hopefully I haven't put in too many, but there should be enough to keep you happy!  
Spacehog26: I couldn't agree with you more- I'm so sick of people turing HP into "teenage pregnancy is FUN when you're a witch!" stories. It makes me gag. Worry not, this is not one of those fics. I'm so glad you decided to keep reading- there WILL be a lot more "battles/action scenes" coming up (I think that's what you were referring to- if not, please let me know and I'd love to work it in!), but by coming up, I mean that I'm currently writing them, so they won't show up in the story til about Chapter 22. :-) Hopefully you'll stick with me till then. I really appreciated your comment- it was well thought out and very constructive. If it makes you feel any better, you will not hear ANYTHING about Ginny being pregnant in this story, except for in the Epilogue. Hehehe- that should keep everyone's brains going...  
Taeniaea: Thank you! I'm glad you "love" it!  
S.D. Blum: Why, thank you! That's why I love my editor so much (editor, not Beta), Jamesey always makes sure I tie up my loose ends and don't leave things hanging. He also has amazing ideas, sends menasty emails when I haven't sent him new material in a while (ha!)and helps with chapter titles- I couldn't do this without him.I hate it when questions aren't answered... like Ron and the brain thing... I mean, um, oops, forget I said anything. :-) Thanks for reading and posting such a thoughtful comment!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15: Memories in the Making**

Harry was ready. He knew he was going to do it. There was only one problem: how. A thousand different possibilities pulsed their way through his head, and none of them seemed good enough. After all, this was Ginny Weasley- THE Ginny Weasley- he was talking about proposing to. Harry knew very well that Ginny could have had any wizard she wanted, and yet, as she had assured him repeatedly, she wanted none other than him, Harry James Potter.

The past week for Harry had been filled with other numerous errands to tackle. On top of homework, battle tactic planning, meetings with Dumbledore, traveling to the Burrow to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and planning on popping the question, Harry's nerves were shot. He was coming to realize why most wizards and witches waited until after they had left school to get hitched- it was just too much damn pressure. But Harry, unfortunately, was never privileged with a life of leisure. He knew all too well that his days were quite possibly numbered, and he reasoned that he might as well spend them as happy as he could possibly be. He also knew that he was never as happy anywhere else as he was with Ginny.

He had to tell her about the prophecy first. It wouldn't be fair to have her completely elated about him proposing and then to just sneak in a statement to the likes of "oh, and by the way…" He couldn't do that to her. The only problem was that he also didn't think he could make it through Hermione's entire speech before passing out from nerves.

And then he thought of it. His and Hermione's meeting with Dumbledore. Harry grinned to himself. The Pensieve he had bought from Madam Amanda had not only proven itself to be a rather excellent way to organize one's thoughts, but now Harry was deeming it as quite the investment.

. Harry had been up since six, nervously pacing the floors of the Sixth Year Boys' room, until Seamus threatened to hex him if he didn't take his "infernal poundings elsewhere". It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year before Christmas Holiday, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, even if they had been allowed to go, would have elected to spend the Saturday holed up in Gryffindor tower where it was nice and warm. Hermione (when Harry had informed her of his plans for that afternoon) headed immediately to the Library to research Magical Weddings and Binding Spells to find a suitable ceremony to be performed once Ginny had said yes.

Harry, of course, had turned green at the thought and whispered frantically to his best female friend, "But Hermione, what if she says NO?"

Hermione had laughed in his face, told him "not to be silly" and marched off to the library, leaving a frightened Harry with shaking knees in her wake. Ron, on the other hand, simply shrugged and said "Well, mate, if you must you must. Just be prepared for lots of agony from Fred and George over holiday," and headed to the corner of the common room to play himself at chess. Ron was taking every preliminary measure he could to be sure to best Malfoy at the tournament they were having the last night before Holiday.

This had left Harry standing quite alone by the stairs to the boys' dormitory, feeling as though he might throw up.

It was nearly 10, and still no sign of Ginny. Harry supposed she was having a lie in, what with her O.W.L. studies wearing her out. She and Harry had stayed up until nearly two in the morning the previous night, with Harry painstakingly trying to describe to her the effects of the Polyjuice potion so she would be sure to get full marks for that question on her writing examination. It was then that Ginny had decided to walk down the stairs, yawning, carrying Tonic in the crook of her arm. Harry thought he'd never seen her look prettier in her life than she did at that moment.

Her hair was bed-tousled, and piled in a messy ponytail high on the back of her head (so it wouldn't interfere with her head on the pillow, Harry imagined). An old pair of yellow sweatpants (most likely Charlie's) hung loosely around her hips, and had been cropped off with a neatly applied severing charm halfway up her calf. Her shirt, (Harry grinned as he recognized it as his own from second year) was an old Gryffindor Quidditch Team Jersey, maroon, with Harry's surname emblazoned in gold on the back with a large number 7 underneath. Harry grinned stupidly as she walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Morning, love," she yawned, scratching Tonic behind the ears. "Your lovely little present here mewed me awake this morning, begging to be let out."

Harry simply stood there, absently petting Tonic's back as he smiled, gazing transfixed at Ginny's face.

"What?" she asked, looking at Harry with his strange, blank expression. "Have I got something on my nose?" She immediately raised a hand and began rubbing it furiously, as if trying to get off some piece of invisible dirt.

Harry laughed, and pulled her hand away, kissing the back of it. "No, Gin, you haven't."

"Oh, good. You sure were looking at me as if a Crumple-Horned Snorkak had sat itself there."

"Well," Harry replied, squinting his eyes, as if looking for signs of dirt or snorkaks he might have missed, "you have got something right… about… here." He leaned forward, and kissed the tip of her nose. Leaning back, he looked again.

"Good God, Gin! They're everywhere! Little brown spots!"

Ginny dropped Tonic lightly to the floor and raised her arms in self-defense, as Harry leaned in to kiss away the freckles that he swore were 'attacking her face'.

"Harry!" she giggled, "I sure hope you don't try to cure Ron of his freckles this way!"

Harry ceased immediately, his lips half way to her neck, just below her right ear. Gazing up into her eyes, he shuddered.

"Ew, Gin. That's gross. And I don't even want to THINK about how Hermione cures Ron's Freckle-itis."

"Freckle-itis?" Ginny smirked.

Harry nodded vigorously. "Yup. Exactly. Severe covering in freckles, and I'm sure your whole family's got it."

Ginny laughed, and her stomach gave a loud growl. "Mmm, food time. Want to come to the Great Hall with me?"

Harry smiled, it was just getting better.

"Nah. Let's ask Dobby if he'll bring us something up here instead. We can eat in my room."

"Like breakfast in bed?" Ginny asked, seeming pleased with the idea. "Sounds great. Let me get my slippers. I'll catch you up."

She bounded back up the stairs to the Girls' Dormitory, and Harry glanced at Ron who was concentrating deeply on the chessboard in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he headed up the stairs to call Dobby.

By the time Ginny had entered the room with her slippers and a throw quilt her mum had made her, Harry had several breakfast items spread out on a tray on his comforter. Ginny opened the curtains of the bed she was amazed to see the amount of food Dobby had provided: a bowl of porridge with 2 spoons and assorted toppings, small pile of crumpets with honey, another bowl (which was meant to be musli but was covered in an assortment of fruit), strawberries and scones with blueberry marmalade.

"Mmm, this looks delicious!" Ginny commented, eyeing the food hungrily. "Dobby is the best."

Harry nodded and buttered a warm crumpet for her, passing it across their tiny 'table'.

"We should do this every Saturday," Ginny declared, as she popped a strawberry into her mouth and reached for the porridge.

Harry laughed, enjoying the sight of her. The Weasleys could eat, there was no doubt about that, and he was glad that Ginny wasn't like most girls- she never fussed about her weight. She and Hermione both declared they "didn't care how much they weighed, as long as their clothes still fit." Harry thought it was a good philosophy, but couldn't help but laugh to himself. If knowing Ginny for nearly six years had taught him anything, it was that she hardly ever wore clothes of her own outside of her school uniform. She was always nicking stuff her brothers couldn't fit into any more, a trait that Harry found highly endearing. He enjoyed hiding under his Invisibility cloak and scaring her when she thought he wasn't there and had snuck up to his room to nick socks out of his trunk.

"So how have your meetings with Dumbledore been going?" Ginny asked, reaching across the table for another pastry.

"Pretty well," Harry answered, attempting to nibble on a peach. He never was one for eating when he was nervous, and he had never been more anxious in his life. "Professor Luenebraum and I have been coming up with a lot of new defensive techniques, and Hermione's already looking into more effective stunners for us."

"Wow," Ginny breathed, "this is really happening, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "Well, it's best to be prepared, don't you think?"

"Of course!" Ginny agreed, speaking through a mouthful of bread. "You can never be too prepared. I would rather know too much and never have to use it than be caught losing my head with worry."

Harry agreed, and absent-mindedly floated a strawberry with his hand.

"You're getting really good at that stuff, you know that?"

Shrugging, Harry levitated it over in front of Ginny, and she leaned in and caught it with her teeth.

"Is something wrong, Harry? You're awfully quiet, even for you."

"I know," he admitted. He could never lie to Ginny, even if he had wanted to, which he didn't. "I've got a lot to think about, and it's been piling up lately. I'm worried about everything- you, my classes, Dumbledore, you, Hermione, your family (did I mention you yet?), defensive strategies, Voldemort—"

Ginny cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Harry- there's nothing you can do about those things. Don't worry about the things you can't change—because you can't change them, no matter what. Voldemort will always be an arse, so why spend your days miserable worrying about it when you already know it's true?

Harry smiled. Ginny always had a way of putting things bluntly in perspective. It was harshly grounding sometimes, but being grounded was definitely something Harry needed.

"And besides," she continued, as she banished the tray with her wand, "you shouldn't worry about the things you CAN change, because you CAN CHANGE them. See? Makes life a lot simpler, doesn't it?"

"You're right, Gin." Harry smiled in spite of himself. "You're absolutely right."

Ginny grinned, and stretched out on his bed. "This isn't fair, your bed is a lot more comfy than mine. How is that possible?"

Harry shrugged, and lay down beside her. He sighed contentedly when Ginny's fingers found his hair and began navigating their way through his messy locks. They lay that way for a while, content in each others silent company and letting their food settle, before Harry sat up and grabbed his Pensieve from his bedside cabinet.

Helping Ginny sit up, they sat on the edge of the bed together staring into the swirling masses that occupied the magical object.

"Wow, you've certainly added a lot of memories to that since I last saw it, haven't you?"

"Well, like I said, I've had a lot to think about. That's what I wanted to show you, I guess. What I've been thinking about lately. I've got a lot to worry about, and I want you to be able to understand why I've been freaking out so much."

Ginny grabbed his hand, and looked deep into his eyes, the concern in her brown ones matching the height of the anxiety in Harry's green.

"Of course, love. We'll make it through together, I don't want you to have to do this alone."

Harry grinned, and laughed to himself. "Well, Gin, you get your wish. There's no possibly way I could do _this_ alone."

Stirring the contents of the basin with his wand, Harry pulled the appropriate memory to the surface: the one of his and Hermione's meeting with Dumbledore about Hermione's thoughts on the prophecy. Leaning forward, Harry and Ginny tumbled head first into the basin, landing neatly in the Headmaster's office. Harry stood slightly behind Ginny during the entire memory, not being able to bear the thought of looking at her face and seeing her possible disgust or hurt. When the memory finished, Ginny turned to him and grabbed his hand. She was smiling, and this just confused Harry even more.

Using his hand to lift her by the elbow, together they rose from the Pensieve and fell back onto Harry's bed. He turned to Ginny and bit his lip, bracing himself for a number of possible reactions.

Ginny was giggling. Softly, but giggling all the same.

"Oh, Harry, honestly," she grinned, reaching up to lightly run her fingertips down his cheek. "If you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was _ask_!"

Harry gaped at her. "Huh?"

He mentally smacked himself. The girl of his dreams had just said that if he wanted to sleep with her, all he had to do was "ask", and the most intelligent thing he could say was 'huh'.

Harry groaned internally, _'Merlin, I am such an idiot sometimes.'_

Ginny smiled at him, and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.

"I said," she repeated softly, her cheeks reddening slightly, "all you had to do was ask."

Harry grinned, and then leaned over, pushing Ginny back on the bed as he kissed her.

"Oh yeah? That easy huh?"

Ginny laughed, and pushed him off, sitting up once again and straightening her pajamas.

"Ok, well, maybe not _that_ easy. I do require some effort you know, Mr. Potter."

Harry put his arms behind his head and relaxed. "Effort, huh? Like maybe breakfasting in bed and curing your freckle-itis kind of effort?"

Ginny laughed, tossing her head back, and lay down cuddled next to Harry once more.

"Maybe…"

Harry sat up, and once again pulled her with him. Smiling, he said, "I think I have just the thing."

Stirring the contents of his Pensieve once more, Harry and Ginny dove into another memory and landed once again in Dumbledore's office. This time, memory Harry was pulling off his Invisibility cloak, saying goodbye and walking out the door. The real Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and followed the memory Harry down the staircase and into the corridor.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, as they followed Harry's memory self through a series of hidden hallways.

"You'll see," Harry replied, grinning mischievously.

They soon arrived at the Portrait Hole to Gryffindor tower, and followed the memory Harry through the common room and up to the Dormitory they had just left. Memory Harry was stuffing his Invisibility cloak inside his bag and hanging up his winter cloak by the door looking around as if to make sure no one was there. Reassured that he was alone, memory Harry kicked off his shoes and jumped on his bed. He grabbed the curtains quickly, and the real Harry had just barely enough time to pull Ginny with him on the bed before they closed.

"Harry," Ginny whispered, "what are you—um, memory you—_doing_?"

"Shh!" Harry whispered frantically. "You're going to miss it!"

Ginny gave him one last curious look before she contented herself with watching Harry's memory self lay down on his bed, tossing fitfully, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Finally, he sat up, and reached into the pocket of his robes with a shaking hand. He pulled out a small, red velvet box and opened it carefully, as if he were afraid it would break. Ginny was about to lean over to see what was inside when memory Harry pulled it out and looked at it between his index finger and thumb.

Ginny gasped, and Harry watched as her eyes widened to rival Luna Lovegood's protruding stare.

Memory Harry had opened his mouth, and was about to speak. Ginny leaned in closer, the Diamond ring bought from The Rough the only thing separating them, although Ginny didn't seem to be looking at it at all. Her focus was completely on memory Harry's eyes. She blinked back tears, just as Harry leaned in and whispered along with his memory self,

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: The Weasel and the Ferret**

Sunday arrived with Ron attempting to drag Harry out of bed much earlier than he would have liked.

"Ron! Bugger off, I'm trying to sleep!"

"No way, Harry. Tonight's my chess match with the Ferret, I need you to help me prepare!"

"Prepare yourself by going and sticking your head in the lake then, why don't you?" grumbled Harry.

"Really? You think it would help?"

Harry removed his head from underneath his pillow and stared groggily at Ron. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"You bet, mate! There's no way I'm going to let the Ferret beat me!"

Harry groaned. "All right, all right! Go get Ginny and Hermione then, too, I'm not suffering alone in this."

"Excellent!" cried Ron. "Now, get dressed so I can beat the trousers off you!"

"Sure mate, whatever you say."

"Hurry up! There's only twelve more hours 'til the match!"

"I'll be right down," Harry assured him as he sat up in bed.

Ron ran down the dormitory stairs and the sleep-tousled Harry leaned forward, checking to make sure he had really gone.

"Excellent," Harry sighed, as he once again drew the curtains closed around his four-poster. "Getting Ginny out of bed should take him hours, which means _I_ can go back to sleep! _Impervious_!"

Imperturbable charm set, Harry nestled back under his blankets and began snoring again almost immediately.

When he did arrive in the common room, it was only to find that Ginny and Hermione were both snoring on the couch while Ron played himself at chess at a deserted table in the corner.

"Took you long enough!" the redhead scolded. "I've beaten myself three times already!"

Harry yawned, "Good on you, mate," and proceeded to snuggle himself on the couch in between his best friend and his new fiancé.

Six o'clock arrived with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Parvati, Lavendar and each sixth year's respective first year mentee (minus Luke and Maddelein) trooping their way to the Room of Requirement. Ginny had left ahead to get Luna from the Ravenclaw Common Room and met them just as they arrived.

"Ready, big brother?" she asked.

"Definitely," said Ron, with an air of confidence he normally didn't portray. "I've been waiting six years to thrash the Ferret, and now I can do it without getting detention—Ah! Draco! How nice of you to arrive! Are you sure you're ready to be embarrassed by a little Gryffindor?"

Draco merely smiled at Ron, and acknowledged his entourage behind him. "I don't know about embarrassed, Weasel, but surely my supporters will gladly wipe you off the floor after I've finished with you."

Sure enough, Draco had brought his own friends, eagerly awaiting the match as much as their Gryffindor counterparts. Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode and all their respective mentees had come along for what was turning out to be a long-awaited showdown. Luke Vitiosus arrived with the Slytherin group, but Harry noticed that Hermione's mentee, Maddelein Roseworth, was with him and they were standing quite close together. He raised an eyebrow at Luke, who simply smirked in response, a gleam in his eye- Maddelein was the prettiest first year by far, and they had gotten on quite well together in their study sessions. Harry winked at him as he paced in front of the door to the Room of Requirement.

"_We need a place for a chess match where all spectators will be comfortable,"_ he thought, and repeated it to himself three times as he walked. A door appeared and Harry opened it, standing aside.

"After you, Weasley," drawled Draco as he gestured Ron gracefully across the threshold.

"Don't mind if I do, Malfoy, you're too kind," he replied airily.

"You're welcome," Draco replied, waving it off as if it were nothing. "Of course, Weasley, my parents raised me with Pureblood manners. Ladies ALWAYS go first."

This earned a hearty chuckle from the Slytherin group, although Harry and Hermione couldn't help but force back a grin. Ron had walked right into that one (no pun intended). As they entered the room, Harry couldn't help but smile for real this time. He had asked, and the room had provided. The center floor was lowered into almost a pit, suitable for the spectators to watch from the opening above, but without having to lean uncomfortably over any railings. There were sandwiches of all kinds, drinks (including Butterbeer) and numerous sweets (danish, scones and wizard candy alike). A vast number of reclining chairs, poufs, beanbags and stools had arranged themselves around the viewing deck all near tables of matching various heights. The best part about it- the color was entirely neutral. People from every house had their colors prominent enough in the room so that none felt overwhelmed.

Harry and Hermione found themselves two reclining chairs next to each other (hunter green and red wine, respectively), with Ginny and Luna sitting not far away on poufs of cream and polka-dotted. Hermione smiled approvingly at Luke when he pulled out a stool at a high table for Maddelein, and Harry grinned with her when they invited Ron and Draco's mentees, Max Curalium and Aurelia Formosus, to join them.

"Oh Harry," gushed Hermione as she leaned over the small end table between their two recliners, "this is wonderful! Look at all the inter-house mingling going on!"

Harry grinned and winked down the row to Ginny who was having her left hand closely inspected by Luna. He was sure the somewhat eccentric (but loveable) Ravenclaw was probably checking to make sure the ring wasn't infested with some rare dry-skin-causing animal.

"Is everyone here? Comfortable?" called Draco. "Wonderful. Fancy a bet on the match, Weasel? "

He eyed Ron's second hand robes with an air of displeased scrutiny as the redhead blushed.

"Maybe not then, let's get the match started."

A silver gong appeared in the corner and Ruby Lauraline (Neville's mentee) reached over to give it a sharp rap with its mallet. Grinning, she sat back down on her beanbag next to Patrick O'Donovan (who had been partnered with Seamus). Brilliant flashes appeared around the room, including next to Ron and Draco at the table, and everyone's favorite beverage now sat next to them at their table.

"Excellent!" Harry head Dean and Seamus chime, as they clinked their butterbeers in the air. Harry turned to his own table to find Hermione daintily sipping a glass of white wine. In response to his arched eyebrow she smiled and said "What? I had it in France. The room must know I'm of age."

There were many laughs and trading of beverages going around the room as many of the wizard-born students were taking sips of the Muggle-borns cola, and the Muggle-born students taking sips of their Gillywater and other wizarding treats. Harry grinned back at Hermione and turned to look at what the room had determined to be his own favorite drink. He smiled to himself when he recognized that the Room of Requirement seemed to know him better than he knew himself. On his side of the table there was a tall glass of cold, half-two-percent half-whole milk and a large plate of still warm snickerdoodle cookies.

"Cookies and milk, Harry?" grinned Hermione devilishly. "How elegant of you!"

"What?" he mumbled, mouth full of cookie, "I never got to eat this when I lived at the Dursleys, but I had to watch Dudley eat it every night before bed. And they always made me drink skim milk. Whole milk was too thick, and two percent was too thin, so I like to mix them."

"I think it's cute!" said Ginny, having stopped at their table. "Bung me a cookie, love?"

"Sure, Gin. Besides, according to Wizarding law, it's all going to be half yours sooner or later anyway."

Ginny grinned. "Excellent. As long as there's cookies, I'm yours."

The match ensued, Ron pulling out all the stops. "Knight to H3!" he cried, and many cheered as Draco's bishop was brutally crushed. The night wore on, and Harry didn't know how Draco was still hanging on as Ron had nearly cleared the board of all the Slytherin's black pieces.

"Castle to E5," said Draco calmly.

Ron looked around the board, as if looking for holes in his battle plan.

"Queen to D6, Check!"

Ron was grinning madly. The match had been on for nearly two hours, but there was no chance he was going to let Draco Malfoy beat him. The spectators were all watching intensely, unless, of course, they were at Ginny and Luna's table, having been distracted by the sparkling light that kept diverting their attention. Many had begun looking at Harry and Ginny strangely, but none were speaking- they didn't want to break the concentration of Ron and Draco. At Ron's cry of 'check', full attention was turned back to the match. Draco was running out of pieces.

"Stopped playing around then, have you, Weasel?"

"What are you talking about Ferret?"

"Think you've gotten me beat, then?"

"I believe that you are the one in check, Ferret, not me," said Ron smugly.

"Well," replied Draco, just as calm as ever, "we'll just have to change that now shan't we? Pawn to D6. Now's who's in check, Weasel-bee?"

"WHAT!" cried Ron.

The space that Draco had cleared from having his pawn take Ron's queen had cleared the path for Draco's bishop to check Ron's king. Ron was frantic. He pondered the board for nearly ten full minutes before he made his move. It was all over from there in three moves.

"Checkmate."

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it."

"I JUST LOST TO A FERRET!"

Ron stood up, his chair falling behind him.

"How in the name of Merlin did you do that? You had barely any pieces left!" Ron cried, clearly distraught at having lost when he had so nearly won.

"A gentleman never tells secrets, Weasel, but… Let's just say I like luring people into a false sense of security."

"I—I—uh…"

"Now what was all that infernal sparkling going on about up there?" Draco demanded.

"Yeah!" cried Ron, looking for any sort of an out. "It was distracting!"

A giggle ensued from a corner of the room, and then Ginny Weasley walked forward.

"Sorry boys," she said. "New present."

She held her hand in front of her and both Ron and Draco's jaws dropped.

"Damn, Potter!" they cried in unison, and proceeded to gape at one another in the astonishment that they actually agreed on something.

"Blimey, Harry!" cried Ron, once his voice finally resumed working. "I knew you were getting her a ring, but I didn't know you were getting her the whole bloody mine!"

Harry reddened deeply, but was saved from making a statement by Draco stepping forward and gingerly taking Ginny's hand and raising it to his lips. Harry reddened even more, but this time it was out of anger- how dare Malfoy lay his grubby ferret hands on his fiancé!

"The Weasel seems to have summed up my initial reaction quite succinctly, minus the knowledge that Harry was looking to take a more… permanent place in the Weasley household. My my, Miss Weasley," he said softly, and he held Ginny's hand into the light so he could examine the stone- she seemed to be neither pleased, nor offended at his close proximity. Looking to Harry, Draco said plaintively, "They go well together."

Harry simply gaped at him.

"A toast, then," said Draco, raising his glass of scotch, "to Pot—ahem, Harry and Ginny. May their impending marriage be…fruitful? Well… to Harry and Ginny!"

"Hear hear!" cried Luna, raising her radish-garnished glass. Around the room glasses were raised in toast, Harry and Ginny grinned and obliged Seamus when he began chanting 'kiss kiss!' The party raged on, and Harry was quite glad—Ron was no longer sulking about losing the match.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 16: The Weasley Inquisition**

News of the engagement of Harry Potter to Ginny Weasley spread like wildfire about the castle. Monday morning had barely arrived and already there were reporters at the castle gates and swarming all over Hogsmeade, begging to be let in to try and get a statement regarding the rumors for that evening's Prophet. Harry and Ginny both received cauldrons-full of Howlers: Harry's berating him for choosing a red-head, and couldn't he see that "Brunettes were obviously better?" and Ginny's giving her an earful about taking Britain's most eligible bachelor (next to the Muggle Prince William) off the market.

Harry merely laughed as they exploded for the entire hall to hear and leaned over to give his new fiancé a peck on the cheek.

"Sorry, Gin," he apologized, "I guess the worst thing about me is that I'm not exactly the best person to be with if you want a private life!"

Ginny smiled, and muttered airily about how her biggest concern was having to get her stationary changed to say "Ginevra Molly Potter" at the top, which made Ron laugh even harder.

"Ginny Potter? Oh, that's rich."

Ginny looked him directly in the eye, and sniffed, "Now Ron, you know I've no idea how much money Harry's got."

Ron snorted into his tea. "Great Merlin, Gin! Haven't you been reading Witch Weekly's monthly 'Potter Pandemonium' updates? They reported his estimated worth right after Sirius was cleared and Harry became his official heir."

Now it was Ginny's turn to snort her tea. "Come on, Ron. I haven't read that rag since they spread those lies about Harry and Hermione back during the Tri-Wizard tournament."

"Really, Gin?" asked Hermione, looking pleased to have such a loyal best girl friend.

"Of course!" she cried, and then muttered under her breath, "I didn't want to read anything mentioning Harry with any girl other than me!"

Breakfast was a cheery affair, and Harry couldn't believe how happy he was as the day wore on. Until, of course, the evening Prophet came at dinner with a screaming headline:

_**Potter Proposes!**_

_By Special Correspondent, Rita Skeeter_

_Harry Potter, 16, has reportedly popped the ultimate question to Ginevra Weasley, 15, daughter of Ministry Official, Arthur--_

Harry hadn't even finished the first sentence when Hermione "accidentally" spilled her evening tea over the cover, causing all the ink to run together.

"Oops!" she admonished. "How clumsy of me. I hope you weren't reading that, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Nah. But, unfortunately for Gin and me, I don't think there's enough tea in the world to ruin all the copies."

The next two weeks until Christmas Holiday were the same as any other fortnight to Harry; if you took out the screaming Howlers he received every morning at breakfast. He had taken to incinerating every red envelope that landed in front of him and Ginny, wandlessly, to keep his skills in tact. The last morning of classes, however, Harry received a different sort of mail. A letter from Madam Malkin arrived with a largely conspicuous package that Harry hastily shoved under the table, and also a smaller box with a thank you note from Miss Amanda. Smiling to himself, Harry kissed Ginny on the cheek and called Sanguine to him. In a flash of brilliant fire, the Phoenix appeared, grabbed both packages, and was gone.

Classes that day went by surprisingly fast, and before Harry knew it he was in Dumbledore's office, waiting for Ginny, Hermione and Ron to arrive so they could take a Port Key to the burrow. Ron arrived not long after, levitating his trunk in front of him, Pigwidgeon zooming around his head.

"Ready to face the twins, mate?" he grinned.

Harry simply shrugged, as if implying that the thought had never crossed his mind.

Ron laughed. "Oh, Harry, you have no idea what you're in for. I can just hear their wands humming right now."

Hermione and Ginny came running up the stairs, breathlessly, only five minutes before their departure time. Dumbledore entered through the fireplace just as they closed the door, and nodded at the girls.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, I trust Madam Pince pointed in the right direction?"

Hermione nodded vigorously as Ginny shoved a book into her school bag.

"Excellent!" smiled Dumbledore. "Well, Miss Granger, here you are," he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two small Muggle playing cards. "They work just as we discussed, but don't hesitate to send me an owl for clarification."

Hermione nodded, and gave Ginny a wink that sent them both into fits of giggles. Harry and Ron just watched amusedly and gave each other a look that plainly said "women…." Dumbledore grabbed an old teakettle from his desk, tapped it with his wand, and handed it to Ron. Harry, Hermione and Ginny all put a finger on it and soon they were on top of a swirling wind that would land them right into the kitchen of The Burrow.

After dragging their trunks to their rooms, everyone made their way back down to the kitchen so Ginny, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Fleur (who was also staying for the Holiday) could admire Ginny's ring together. Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry repeatedly, saying tearfully how she "couldn't have asked for a better son-in-law", and was glad that if her "baby Gin-Gin" had to be the first to marry that it was to such a "nice, handsome boy" like Harry.

Harry endured all this with Ron making faces at him in the background, and then they went off together to have a game at chess. Ron was willing to practice even with Harry so he would have a chance to best Malfoy when they returned from Holiday.

"I STILL can't believe the Ferret beat me!" Ron groaned, as he set up the board.

"Well," said Harry, attempting to console him, "he _was_ really good. And it wasn't really fair with Ginny flashing her ring around and all, distracting you."

"You're telling me," muttered Ron. "You had to get one so big, didn't you?"

Harry smiled, and nodded. "What can I say, Ron? It called to me. I'm sure you'll say the same thing when you buy one… Pawn to E3."

"No way!" shrieked Ron. "Hermione's already got enough crazy ideas in her head about YOUR wedding. Knight to H3. I don't even want to THINK what she would be like if WE got married."

Dinner was a full affair, what with Hermione, Harry and Fleur all staying as guests. Harry was amazed- Ron was having no trouble keeping his head around the half-veela. The only conspicuous absence was Charlie- he was still in Romania.

"So what made you decide to stay in England for Christmas, Fleur?" asked Harry conversationally, attempting to get around what was the first awkward silence he had ever heard at the Weasley dinner table.

"Oh, eet was Bill!" Fleur tweaked the eldest Weasley boy's nose affectionately. "'e eez so vary sweet! 'e knew it vood be very 'ard for me to travel all zee way to France, and steel work at Greengots zo 'e eenvited me to 'ave an Eenglish Chreestmas."

Harry grinned. He was glad to see Fleur and Bill getting on so well. He knew that she had started working at Gringotts with the specific intention of getting to know the eldest Weasley in mind- but Harry knew better. Once you were in with the Weasleys, there was no getting out. It appeared that all her Veela charms aside, Bill certainly had Fleur's heart; hook, line and sinker.

Mrs. Weasley and the girls had just adjourned to the kitchen to bring out the desert trays, when Harry noticed an owl tapping at the window. Excusing himself, Harry opened it and the owl swooped in. Shaking the snow off its feathers it dropped an envelope on Harry's head and immediately took off again back into the night.

Carefully plucking the letter from his hair, Harry groaned. It was another Howler- and this one would be right in front of his future in-laws. Groaning, he apologized to the men still sitting around the table, and in his haste to make amends the envelope burst open and began shrieking at the top of its non-existent lungs.

POTTER!

SO, YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD STEAL OUR BABY SISTER AWAY, DID YOU? DIDN'T EVEN STOP AT DIAGON ALLEY TO ASK OUR PERMISSION, DID YOU? WELL FINE! WE HOPE YOU REALIZE THAT YOU NOW HAVE THE WRATH OF WEASLEYS WIZARD WHEEZES ON YOUR ARSE, AND ITS NOT GOING TO BE PRETTY! … NOT THAT WE WERE LOOKING AT YOUR BUM, BUT OUR CLIENTELE INFORMS US IT'S QUITE NICE…

FRED, GET TO THE POINT!

SORRY, GEORGE.

YOU BETTER WATCH IT, POTTER! YOU WANT TO BE A WEASLEY, EH? WELL IT TAKES A LOT MORE THAN A PRETTY ROCK TO GET INTO _OUR_ FAMILY! BY THE WAY- HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND ON THAT DIAMOND? HALF OF GRINGOTTS? YOU IDIOT!

GEORGE- STOP MESSING AROUND!

SORRY, FRED.

YOU'RE GOING TO RUE THE DAY YOU EVER SET EYES ON OUR SISTER!

There was a loud POP, and the Howler burst into flames. The twins ran out of the room in a fit of laughter, and Harry saw that having a good laugh wasn't the only reason they had excused themselves so abruptly- Mr. Weasley was looking murderous. But Harry's night wasn't over yet: At the window was another owl. Fred and George peeked their heads around the doorframe, and then retreated once more, laughing hysterically in the next room.

SO, POTTER, screamed the amplified voice of Charlie Weasley,

ONE GO-ROUND WITH THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL WASN'T ENOUGH FOR YOU? I'LL BE BRINGING ONE HOME WITH ME FOR THE NEW YEAR—AND I BET YOU WON'T BE AS LUCKY ABOUT IT THIS TIME! YOU'LL LOOK AT THE OLD ONE FROM YOUR FOURTH YEAR LIKE IT'S A PRETTY-SMELLING SNAP DRAGON AFTER MAHFOOZE GETS AHOLD OF YOU!

YOU HAD BETTER THANK YOUR LUCKY BROOMSTICKS THAT I'M STILL IN ROMANIA… OR MARK MY WORDS; THEY WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO FIND A BODY TO BURY AFTER MY DRAGONS WERE DONE CREMATING YOU!

Harry groaned- another owl was making its way through the window. He was sure Bill's howler would be next. His suspicions were confirmed when the eldest Weasley gave him a rather punishing look from across the table.

YOU KNOW, MY BROTHERS USED TO CALL ME "BILL-THE-CURSE-BREAKER", BUT I THINK THAT'S ALL ABOUT TO CHANGE. JUST WAIT TIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU LITTLE TWERP, AND MY NAME WILL BE CHANGED TO "BILL-THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED-BREAKER"!

I SAVED SOME SPECIAL CURSES JUST FOR THIS DAY. RESERVED SPECIFICALLY FOR THE BASTARD THAT WOULD TRY AND TAKE GINNY AWAY—AND BOY, AM I HAPPY I GET TO USE THEM ON SOMEONE LIKE YOU!

YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG CURSE-BREAKER, POTTER. YOU WON'T RECOGNIZE YOURSELF WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU!

Bill gave one last murderous look at Harry, and roughly excused himself from the table to join the twins in the living room. If Harry didn't know better he could have sworn that Bill was trying to keep a straight face through the length of his own Howler. Breathing deeply, Harry mentally counted in his head: Bill, Charlie, the twins… That left Ron, Percy and Mr. Weasley- but Harry didn't think he'd be getting any letters from them. Not with Percy still ostracized from his family, Ron being his best mate, and Mr. Weasley having already given him his blessing.

But sure enough- there came yet another owl, bearing a red envelop. A quick glance to his best mate, the last Weasley son remaining at the table left Harry bemused- Ron was staring stonily at the wall with his arms crossed- in the optimistic Harry's opinion Ron surely must have been disgusted by his brothers, but whether Ron was turning his back on his family or his best friend, the practical Harry really didn't know.

I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU'D GET OFF EASY WITH ME, YOU BACK-STABBING TRAITOR! BEST MATES WITH ME FOR NEARLY SIX YEARS, AND I'D BET MY BROOMSTICK THAT THE ONLY REASON YOU STUCK AROUND FOR SO LONG WAS SO YOU COULD GET YOUR MITTS ON MY BABY SISTER.

YOU'D BETTER COUNT YOUR LUCKY STARS THAT YOU DIDN'T DECIDE TO FALL IN LOVE WITH HERMIONE, OR YOU WOULDN'T BE ANYTHING MORE THAN A SCORCHED HEX MARK ON THE COMMON ROOM WALL.

YOU DO ANYTHING TO HURT GIN, AND I'LL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS- VOLDEMORT NEED NOT BOTHER, I'LL DO HIS DIRTY WORK FOR HIM MYSELF.

The last Howler burst into flame, and then floated to the floor to join the large pile of ash already accumulated at Harry's feet.

"Ouch, mate. That one kind of hurt," Harry commented dramatically clutching his chest.

Ron grinned, and shrugged. "Well, mate, I wouldn't KILL you, but I _would_ mess you up something awful."

Harry smiled, and pounded his fist into his other hand. "Beat me to a pulp, right mate?"

Ron nodded. "You can bet on it. A promise is a promise, after all."

Harry grinned, and the other boys came trooping back into the room.

"Don't think _we're_ going to forgive you that easily, Harry," warned George.

"Yeah, Potter, we're not through with you yet!" added Fred.

"I never thought you were," Harry grinned.

Harry turned to Bill, but noticed that he wasn't looking back. The girls were returning from the kitchen, acting as if they had heard nothing (even though Harry knew this to be quite impossible- anyone that hadn't heard Charlie's howler from a mile away must be deaf). They watched as Bill moved to close the window, but before he could fasten the latch a last, lonely owl landed softly on its sill, before hooting snootily and flying off into the moonlight.

"Here, Harry," said Bill, passing Harry a creamy white envelope and shrugging his shoulders. "It's got your name on."

Harry looked around at all the faces- but every one appeared to be just as confused as he was. Slitting the seal carefully with his finger, Harry pulled out a single sheet of parchment and quickly scanned to the bottom to see who had written it.

"It's from Percy," he said, quietly.

"Oh, Percy!" cried Mrs. Weasley happily. "He must be writing to offer his congratulations! Not like the rest of my practical joking sons- Percy was always a sweetheart. Read it aloud for us, won't you Harry, dear?"

Harry smiled sadly, and glanced to Ron. The last letter Percy had written had been to Ron about Harry, and it hadn't been kindly. Ron shrugged, and seemed to say, "If it's what mum wants." Harry cleared his throat and began to read aloud the letter from the final Weasley brother.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It has come to my attention (through the Minister of Magic, no less) that if I were to look through my mail I might find something of interest. I returned from overseas this evening and, much to my surprise (and disdain) I came across a Daily Prophet from two weeks previous with a headline I found most disturbing. As pleased as the rest of my family might be, you are much to young to be marrying, especially to someone equally as young, and most importantly, someone that happens to be MY youngest sister. As foolish as you are to have done this, one would hope that you would not be so imprudent as to think that I have quilled this letter to offer my congratulations. It is quite the contrary._

_It is to my great displeasure that you have forced me into this position, but I have come to the conclusion that I have no other choice._ _With my contacts here at the Ministry I have suspended all your travel possibilities, indefinitely. You will not be able to leave the grounds of Hogwarts without my knowing it. _

_Rest assured, Harry, knowing that I will find you and when I do, I hope that you have been preparing for a fight._ _I would be telling a rather large untruth to say that I thought you were smarter than this, for I know you are not. If you had any common sense you would stay away from Ginevra, and the rest of the family. If you cannot see the danger you put them in by "legally binding" them to the likes of Albus Dumbledore, then I must confess that I see no hope for you in keeping the Ministry on your side. Yes, Harry, the Ministry WAS on your side._

_Know this, Mr. Potter, and let it be your first and final warning: The Dark Lord will find you- but not before I do._

_Cordially,_

_Percival S. Weasley_

Hermione, who had been reading over his shoulder, whispered in his ear, "Only Death Eaters call him Dark Lord, Harry."

Harry nodded grimly, and passed the letter to Mr. Weasley, to do with as he wished. Looking around the kitchen, he saw many horror-struck faces.

Ginny snorted. "His 'youngest' sister? Please… as if he had to specify. And if he DOES ever meet us, he's going to get a firm hex straight in the arse for calling me Ginevra."

Bill let out a low whistle, while Fred and George read the letter over themselves, as if they had to see it to believe it.

Ron shook his head, and said simply, "Sorry, mate. He always was the world's biggest git."

"Yeah," agreed Bill, running a hand through his hair, "I mean- I thought our _howlers_ were bad- but at least _we_ were only joking."

Harry shrugged, but shared a significant glance with Hermione about the last line of Percy's letter.

"_Zat_ was Peer-seey?" spat Fleur, her normally milky features gone crimson with rage. "You never told me 'e was zo… ee-vil, Bill. Oh, 'Arry, I am zo sorr-ey 'e sent zat letter. I am vahry 'appy for you and Gin-ee. You will make soch a lohfley couple, and you shood not care what zis "Peer-seey" eediot says of you."

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley brightly as if Fleur had settled the matter, though Harry could see her eyes shining with fiery tears, "who wants cake?"

A silent raising of everyone's hands went up around the room, and Mrs. Weasley stalked determinedly to the table and began dishing out pieces of dessert. No one spoke a single word, but when she handed Harry the last piece of cake, it was the largest of all. Smiling tearfully, she whispered vehemently,

"No one messes with my son-in-law."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 17: Preparations**

Thursday evening found Harry and Ginny sitting comfortably on the sofa in the Weasley's sitting room, enjoying watching Ron attempt to teach Hermione what he called the "finer points of chess". Ginny patted her lap, and Harry grinned: He knew this was an open invitation for him to rest his head there, and that Ginny would massage his scalp. Lazing on the sofa in comfortable bliss, Harry thought that he couldn't be happier.

"So, Gin," began Hermione, after Ron had finally given up and gone back to playing himself on the board. "Are we all set for Saturday?"

Harry looked up and saw Ginny nod, turning slightly red.

"And what would be happening on Saturday?" asked Ron, his gaze never wavering from the black and white checkered board in front of him.

"Nothing," stated Hermione and Ginny, simultaneously.

Harry knew then that it was a good thing that Ron was so focused on the chessboard, or the subject never would have been dropped. Harry wasn't going to bother himself about it- if it was important, Ginny would tell him. But Harry, like other teenage boys, was naturally curious, so, when Ron and Hermione left to 'get ready for bed', he rounded on Ginny, intent on knowing what she and Hermione had been talking about.

"So… Gin—"

"Harry I want to get married," Ginny said nervously, in a rush of breath.

Harry grinned and sat up to face her. "I know, love, I want to get married eventually, too. Good thing, don't you think, seeing as I already went and asked you and all."

Ginny shook her head, "No, Harry. That's not what I meant."

"It's not?"

"No."

Harry ran a perplexed hand through his hair, fluffing it more than Ginny's expert fingers already had. "Ok… well, what did you mean then?"

Ginny bit her bottom lip, as if debating the best way to make her next statement. A tense minute passed, and apparently Ginny had decided that blunt honesty was the best way to go.

"Harry, I love you. I know everything that has been chasing you down, haunting you… everything that wants you dead. I love you, and I want to marry you. I want to spend as much of my life with you as possible, and we both know the possibility that it may not be a very long time."

"Gin, I—"

"I know, Harry. It's horrible that I would say that to you, but it's true. Ignoring Voldemort won't make him go away. Trying to ignore my feelings for you won't make them go away either.

"I want to be with you, Harry. I want to be with you in every way possible—everything from helping you to learn how to beat Voldemort and being at your side when the final battle arrives, to studying with you for our exams and breakfasting with you in bed… being _with_ you in bed."

Harry smiled, and lightly grabbed her hand. "I know, Gin, I want all that, too. …Especially the bed part."

Ginny laughed, "I know you do, Harry. And so do I. So why should we wait any longer?"

Harry raised his eyebrows; he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"But, Gin, I mean—don't you want a nice big wedding with all your family and friends there to ooh and ahh at how lovely you look, and a pretty white dress and all that lot?"

Ginny laughed. "Harry! I don't want all that! I just want **_you_**! And besides, most wizard weddings aren't "big" and the bride doesn't wear a "fluffy white dress". They're really private, with only the closest people to the bride and groom present."

"They are?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Yes, darling, they are."

"And they're PRIVATE? So you mean I didn't really have to Floo over here with Dumbledore to ask your parents' permission to marry you?"

"You did _what_?"

"I flooed over here with Albus to ask your dad for your hand in marriage!" cried Harry, outraged. "You mean Wizards don't _do_ that?"

Ginny laughed, tossing her head back. "Oh, Harry, no they don't. But I'm sure dad thought it was wonderful. He loves anything Muggle."

Harry grumbled, "Certainly would have saved me a lot of embarrassment if I'd have known that first. I'm going to KILL Dumbledore for leaving that bit out."

Ginny giggled once more, then continued, "Any way, that's why Hermione and I went to the library before we came home for Holiday: we wanted to research a Binding Ceremony."

"Binding Ceremony?"

"It's like a Muggle wedding, but wizard style."

"Oh…"

"And we found one—and I want to do it."

Harry paused for a moment, perplexed, thinking back on everything that had happened since he had proposed, "You want to get married **this Saturday**? _That's_ what you and Hermione were talking about?"

Ginny nodded, "I want to marry **you**, Harry James Potter, this Saturday at midnight in Godric's Hollow."

Harry's jaw dropped, but he quickly retracted it into the biggest grin he could imagine. Jumping from the couch, he grabbed both of Ginny's hand and lifted her into his embrace, spinning her in a large circle around the room.

"Really, Gin? You mean it?"

"Really, Harry."

"We can get married **that fast**?"

"That fast, Harry. And then we can be with each other forever—wizard and witch, man and wife."

He set Ginny lightly on the floor, and leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"And it's legal and everything?"

"Of course, Harry! Why wouldn't it be?"

"And you get to be Mrs. Potter?"

Ginny giggled, "Yes, Harry, we get to be Mr. and Mrs. Potter."

The reality of it all was hitting Harry with the force of the Hogwarts express, and he couldn't imagine the actual train could have ever felt this blissful.

"And I can sleep with you any night I want?"

"Harry!" cried Ginny, blushing furiously.

"Well? Do I?"

Ginny grinned, "Yes, Mr. Potter, any night you want."

Harry's eyes glowed mischievously, "Oh, Mrs. Potter, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you?"

Ginny's eyes lit with the same fire as she replied, "Oh, Mr. Potter, one might say the same of you."

Saturday evening on December 21st came quickly for Harry, yet at the same time it wasn't quickly enough. He had nipped up to Ginny and Hermione's room before dinner and left part of Ginny's Christmas present on her bed with a small note.

Hermione had done her best to keep Ginny and Harry from seeing each other for the twenty-four hours before the wedding, but as she and Harry were the only ones familiar with this custom (and Harry had no desire to cooperate) she was having quite the time. Her efforts were not completely unsuccessful, though, as once dinner was finished Ginny pulled her bodily from the kitchen table up to their room and locked the door.

"Hermione! You have to help me get ready! I'm way too nervous to do anything right, and you're 17 so you can do all the magic stuff."

Hermione grinned, always ready to practice new charms and incantations (even if they were only beauty spells) and grabbed her wand from her bedside table.

"Gin, what's that?" she asked, pointing at the lumpy silver packaging that had been laying curiously on Ginny's comforter.

"No idea," Ginny shrugged as she picked up the card.

_My Dearest Gin,_

_I may not know much about wizard customs, but I do know some about Muggle. I know it's cheating because I've already seen it (ask Hermione), but I think that **every** girl should have a beautiful white dress (or robes, in your case) for her wedding. They were supposed to be part of your Christmas present, but I can think of no better time to give them to you._

_I love you, Ginny, and I can't wait to be_

_Yours Eternally,_

_Harry James Potter_

Ginny softly passed the card into her best friend's outstretched hand as she carefully untied the dainty string that held the wrapping to the package. It dropped to the floor without a sound as the wrapping fell away in a breath of lilies and a silver shimmer sparkled from the inside. Carefully, Ginny wiped her hands down the side of her jeans and picked up the soft material that had been carefully folded inside Harry's gift. She held it up and turned to face Hermione, who let out a soft 'wow' as she waved her wand and the dress levitated between them, inflated to Ginny's exact proportions.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life," Ginny breathed as she and Hermione watched the dress turn on the spot of its own accord.

"Me either," Hermione readily agreed. "Harry sure does have good taste."

Ginny snorted, "Well obviously! Look at the women he hangs around!"

Hermione giggled and with a soft flick of her wrist the dress moved itself to stand in the corner of the room.

"Now, Gin," prompted Hermione, "go get in the shower—and use the _nice_ soap Lavendar and Parvati got me for my birthday, not that bar stuff the boys use."

Ginny nodded obediently and grabbed her towel and dressing gown from the rack over the door and practically danced to the toilette. Hermione smiled, and moved toward the corner to examine Ginny's wedding dress more closely.

"Wow, Harry Potter, you certainly know what looks good on a woman!"

Picking up the sleeve between her index finger and thumb, she gasped at the softness of the material—it had to be silk, there was no doubt in her mind. Ginny would look just like a snowflake. Despite the fabric being silk, Hermione admired the thickness of it—Ginny wouldn't be too hot or too cold in this pair of dress robes, no matter what time of year she wore them. Another casual flick of her wand, and the dress floated once again to the middle of the room, where it slowly rotated so Hermione could admire it from every angle.

It was the softest white she had ever seen, and Hermione knew it would flatter the creamy color of Ginny's skin like no other color could. The sleeves were capped at the shoulder, with the tiniest embroidered flowers in silver and pearl stitching around all of the hems. The neckline draped ever so slightly in the middle, and the waist followed to match. Scattered about the bodice and rest of the dress were more of the embroidered flowers which seemed to gather in pools at the bottom hem of the skirt. There was no train on the actual dress, but there was a gathering of more material at the back to make it look fuller. Attached at the shoulders was a cape, and flowers crafted from Goblin Silver (in the same style as those embroidered on the dress and cape) fastened it delicately on, and it draped down the length of the back, almost like a veil. Hermione gaped in awe, and was so enchanted that she didn't even hear Ginny return from the shower.

"I can't believe I get to wear that," she breathed and she pulled the towel from her hair.

Hermione shook herself from what she thought was a very lovely daydream to find she was still standing in it. Grinning, she conjured a chair for Ginny to sit in as she slowly used her wand to dry the red head's tumbling locks. She and Ginny flipped through a number of Muggle magazines to find a suitable hairstyle, and Mrs. Weasley brought her old "Beauty Bewitchments" spellbook for Hermione to get charms from. Molly fawned over the dress robes Harry had purchased her daughter, and whipped out her wand to help Hermione dry Ginny's hair.

"Goodness, Ginny, I never knew you had so much hair! You put it up all the time, so I never get to see it. You really should wear it down more often, dear."

Ginny smiled, apparently too happy to be bothered by her mother's statements about "witchly pride" and how beauty was only "spell deep." Several quarters of an hour later, Ginny's hair was finally dry and brushed, and Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were arguing with her about wearing it down as opposed to an up-do.

"Your mum's right, Gin," pleaded Hermione, "if you wore it down in nice soft curls it would just look perfect!"

"But it always gets in the way!" Ginny pouted, not wanting to give in. "There's no spells that really make it stay, believe me, I've looked."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, exasperated. "She's right, Hermione. There are no spells in that book that make it stay in one place. It's really just drying, smoothing, straightening and curling spells."

Hermione grinned, and reached into her trunk. "That's where "Muggle Magic" comes in."

"Muggle magic?" asked Molly.

Hermione laughed, "Well, not really magic, but it might as well be. Trust me, this is nothing a little mousse, hair spray and texturizer can't handle. There's no way I could get my hair to calm down without this stuff—I'm only sorry I didn't discover it sooner."

Ginny shrugged. "All right, you can try this curl thing you're so set on. But if it doesn't stay still when I get my dress robes on can we put it up?"

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley gave each other a wink. "Sure!" they said, and set to work.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were reviewing the Bonding Ceremony that the girls had selected.

"Geez," commented Ron, letting out a low whistle. "I never knew these things were so complicated."

Harry nodded soberly. "It could be worse though. Have you ever been to a Muggle wedding?"

Ron shook his head, and Harry shivered. "Let's just say that it's worth being a wizard and having Voldemort after me just to NOT have to go through that."

"That bad, huh?"

"They take **forever**! I had to go to one with the Dursley's one summer because Mrs. Figg was on holiday and couldn't watch me. I'd never been so bored in my life, and it was even worse because Dudley was something called the "ring-bearer" and everyone just adored him. I had to sit for HOURS while everyone took pictures."

Ron shuddered, "That sounds awful."

"You don't even know the half of it. This is going to be a cinch compared to a Muggle wedding. I'm so glad you and 'Mione get to be a part of it."

"Me, too, mate. Now lets go over this last bit again- I still don't get the part about the ring of light and the Equinox."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 18: Return to Love's Hollow**

The field was still; save for a lonely cat twitching its tail on a low tree branch and a late-night bumblebee buzzing around some holly bushes. It was an unusually warm December night, and the two seemed to be enjoying the rarity of nice weather.

There was a soft 'pop', and the cat stood, its back arched and its fur on end, as four teenagers appeared out of thin air. As if determining that it was in no danger, the cat sat down on its branch once again and licked its paw absentmindedly as the bee came bumbling over its head. Either the cat didn't notice or it didn't mind, but the bee seemed to think that the best place to rest for the moment was on the branch next to the tabby; snuggling next to its left paw for warmth.

The four teenagers looked cautiously around themselves, nodded, and walked to the center of the field. The cat lightly jumped down from its branch, evidently curious as to what four young people would be doing out in the middle of Godric's Field so near to midnight. The bee, apparently annoyed that its source of warmth had left so abruptly, buzzed along after the tabby, intent to catch up.

Deciding that a lone fence post was a satisfactory spot, the cat lit itself upon it and gazed at the humans with a curious eye. A small knothole in the wood suited the bee just fine, and it crawled inside it to rest its wings.

"Are you ready?" asked a curly haired brunette, and she waved a stick in her hand. There was a flash of sparkles and dozens of tiny fairies to appeared, dancing lightly through the wind and lighting the field with their wings.

The cat purred- it seemed to be pleased with the fairies. It watched as a raven-haired boy and a redheaded girl nodded, taking their place between the brunette and another redheaded boy. The two boys stood together on one side and the two girls on the other, the redhead and the raven-haired in the middle, all facing one another.

The bumblebee raised its head inside its knothole to take notice of their appearances and clothes the teenagers were wearing: the two boys had donned what looked like dark colored robes. The redhead had deep navy robes and a look that was deemed quite well kempt in comparison to his friend. The raven-haired boy had the untidiest hair the bumblebee had ever seen, and he was wearing robes that were black with a green collar and cuffs.

The two girls were also wearing what appeared to be robes of some sort, and had done _their_ hair very prettily. The redhead had worn hers long, elaborately curled and cascading down to the middle of her back, pinned away from her face with emerald clips. She was wearing robes in the softest white the bee had ever seen. To the happy bumble, she looked like a particularly beautiful flower, absolutely radiant in the moonlight. The brunette was wearing robes of a deep crimson, and her hair had a matching ribbon across the crown of her head, with the rest of her curls pinned at random to the back, making her look like an ancient Grecian Goddess. The bee buzzed its wings in pleasure for a brief moment and then settled down once more to watch.

The boy with the untidy hair appeared to be concentrating very hard, and suddenly a large force erupted from his hand, enclosing the field in an invisible, yet extremely solid shield, so no one could disturb him and his friends. The bee shot out from his knothole like a rocket, and buzzed erratically around the cat's head, which twitched its tail patiently before finally getting irritated and batting the bumble back to its knothole.

The other boy looked around and observed the raven's work- he grinned, smacked the boy on the back, and then turned to the girls.

"Shield is set, then. Nice one, Harry."

"Is it midnight yet?" asked the red haired girl (that was standing next to the boy called Harry) rather anxiously.

The brunette checked the red-haired boy's pocket watch, nodded, and carefully waved the stick once more and a podium appeared. She cautiously set a book on its top, opened it to a specific page somewhere towards the back, and began to read in unison with the red haired boy.

"_By power of the Equinox, we unite this love._

_In light of the moon in an eclipse by the sun,_

_We proclaim the rarity of a binding so pure,_

_Witnessed by eternal stars, ever shining above."_

As if on cue, the moon suddenly disappeared in a complete lunar eclipse, and the bee began buzzing in its knothole once more. The raven-haired boy called 'Harry' grabbed the redheaded girl's hands and they smiled at one another. The brunette and the other redhead placed their hands on their friends' shoulders, and continued to read.

"_We acknowledge one divine and single truth,_

_With essence drawn from both our spirits,_

_That love so true can be only found_

_In the hearts of pure and untainted youth."_

At the end of this verse, the two united in the middle began to glow, illuminated by a solid white light emitting from the center of their chests. The glow rapidly spread down the rest of their bodies, and extended to include the two witnessing the ceremony. When the radiance had encompassed them all, they raised off the ground together, levitated inside a ball of pure, translucent light. The two in the middle now began to speak, their voices blending together in what might have been a harmony written for angels.

"_With all my soul I pledge you my heart_

_I give myself, my love, freely to you_

_Knowing that what I offer, I gain in return_

_Bound by power of Equinox's arc."_

There was an abrupt flash, and the ball of light that had concealed the four teenagers seemed to explode as it surrounded itself in a ring of lightning the circled around its center. As the lightning circled faster, the ball seemed to glow impossibly brighter. The bumblebee fluttered its wings inside its knothole while the cat airily licked it paw.

The ring split itself in half, and began to encase the sphere, one arc encasing the northern part, and the other encasing the southern. Each half circle began to pulse and rotate, stretching as it did so, one spinning vertically and the other horizontally until they turned into two complete circles of lightning. Spiraling faster than an atom's nucleus the protective ball glowed with a brilliant white light. As the sphere pulsed with the power of Equinox's Arc, the two redheads, the brunette and the raven-haired boy, Harry, floated into a circle and joined hands. Where two circles had been made from one they now collided into a thousand other rings, circling and spiraling around the sphere, sheathing it in their pure brilliance.

When the sphere was finally completely surrounded by the lightning, the four bodies encased inside it went rigid and looked towards the heavens, curling their toes as if in a sensation of unearthly ecstasy. Four jets of red light shot straight from their chests to the outside of the ball and combined into a brilliant red firework above them. Slowly, as the shimmers from the explosion dissipated back to the ground, the teenagers were lowered softly to the earth.

"Did it work, Hermione?" asked the redheaded boy, presumably to the brunette.

She flipped through the book, and read to the bottom of the page the spell had been on.

"Everything looks ok, Ron. Besides," the girl called Hermione gestured towards the couple in the middle, "look at Harry and Ginny. If that isn't proof I don't know what is."

The redheaded boy Ron laughed as the couple (Harry and Ginny) broke away from their kiss and turned to hug their friends. The bumblebee had once again left its knothole and began buzzing in excited loop-the-loops around the tabby's head. The cat didn't seem annoyed this time, it just purred louder than it had done when the fairies appeared. There was another brilliant flash of light as dozens more of the red fireworks exploded randomly above their heads.

"Ooh!" sighed the girl named Ginny. "They're so pretty!"

They watched for a while until they ended, and the girl named Hermione commented, "Maybe we were a little over-zealous. It said there was only supposed to be the one firework."

"Eh, who cares?" said the boy named Ron. "Fireworks are great, aren't they, Harry?"

"Perfect…" mumbled the raven-haired Harry, though he was obviously too occupied with watching the red-haired girl to care.

"What about the mark, though?" asked the white robed girl named Ginny, as she looked at her wrists and arms, and gingerly felt her face and forehead. "Hermione, didn't it say—"

The other three looked at one another, and then began checking themselves over for some sort of mark. Suddenly, the boy called Harry reached up and gently pulled the neckline of Ginny's dress down a fraction to expose a soft, silver crescent moon that was now marked on his love's breastbone.

"Here it is, you guys. Right over her heart."

The other two called Ron and Hermione opened their robes and looked down to see their marks for themselves as Ginny opened Harry's robes to see his.

"Ours are different from yours, Harry," commented Ron the redhead, as he looked at the Hermione the brunette's chest. "See, look- Hermione and I have stars."

Harry and Ginny looked towards their friends and smiled.

"The witness of eternal stars," said Ginny the redhead, as she looked over toward the book.

The girl called Hermione smiled, and ran her finger down the text. "That would be it. Stars mark us because we witnessed the ceremony, Ron. Ginny and Harry have crescent moons because it represents the sun bonding with the moon to make a lunar eclipse."

The group smiled at each other, and the raven-haired boy called Harry pulled a playing card from his pocket.

"Ready to go back to The Burrow?"

The other three nodded. Taking one last look around the field in Godric's Hollow, they all placed a finger on the card and in a blink, they were gone.

Once again, the field was still, save for the bumblebee that was still buzzing around the cat's head as the tabby swatted at it with its paw. Suddenly there was a soft 'pop', and the bee was buzzing around the head of a tall black haired woman, dressed in long black robes and an emerald cloak.

"Oh honestly, Albus, you think you would grow up after a century and a half! All this infernal buzzing about is enough to drive me mad!" she cried, as she smoothed her hair back into its bun.

Another small 'pop' sounded, and a tall, regal looking wizard, complete with hat and long white beard, now accompanied the witch.

Albus Dumbledore laughed and reached into his robes and pulled out a small tin. "Lemon Drop, Minerva?" he offered.

The witch snorted, "You and your sweets. Oh, Albus, what will you think of next?"

Albus merely smiled and popped a small candy into his mouth. Crunching it thoughtfully, he swallowed and then commented, "You know, _Min_," – the witch cringed—"one might say that sometimes you need to let your hair down and relax a little."

The witch sniffed, and crossed her arms. This only made the wizard laugh harder.

"Come now, Minerva! You must admit that it was a glorious thing to watch! Highly entertaining! Even without the additional fireworks…"

The witch seemed to debate with herself for a while before she finally sighed and threw up her arms.

"All right, you win, Albus! It _was_ rather lovely. I've never witnessed an Equinox Binding spell- I imagine it was quite powerful, what with the magical attributes of this particular day. The additional fireworks, I wonder why that happened?"

"Extremely powerful," Albus confirmed. "I gather that you have read the binding incantation?"

"Yes, I have. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger must have been unwaveringly loyal Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter to have been magical witnesses to such a ceremony."

Albus smiled, "Ah, well, if I know Harry and Ginny, they would have had no one else."

"No one, Albus? I know Mr. Potter is quite close to the Weasleys, as he is quite close with you. Surely he and Miss Weasley—"

"By Miss Weasley, am I to assume that you actually mean 'Mrs. Potter', Minerva?"

Minerva sniffed, and this time it didn't seem to be in disdain.

"Yes, I suppose I do. I don't think I shall ever get used to calling her Mrs. Potter, though. Do you think she might consent to being called Miss Weasley still until she finishes school?"

Albus shrugged, "I can only say that it would be better to ask. I know Harry better than most of the staff, but as for Ginny I can make no assumptions as to her wishes.

"As for the loyalty of Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to Mr. Potter, I know that they have proved it countless times- starting with the Sorcerer's Stone."

Minerva nodded, recalling the memory of the first year the infamous trio came to Hogwarts.

"And Ginny, then?"

Albus popped another candy into his mouth and thought for a moment, before a dawning look of comprehension rose on his face.

"The very next year. When Tom Riddle possessed Ginny it was Ron, along with Harry, who risked expulsion by coming to find her. After Hermione had taken the Mandrake draught to be released from her Petrified state, I believe it was she that took Miss Weas—excuse me, Mrs. Potter, you're right, that is going to be hard—Mrs. Potter under her wing and helped her cope with the travesty.

"Hermione was her only friend- before and after the Tom Riddle incident. Ginny finds Hermione to be unwaveringly loyal to her because Hermione was the only one that she knew at the time other than family (and Harry) that didn't turn their back on her because of what Tom had done."

Minerva nodded. "That's loyalty if I ever saw it. But what about the true love and lunar eclipse part?"

"Ah, yes. Well, that part is more or less specific depending on the couple that chooses to use the Equinox Binding spell, but I didn't tell Miss Granger that."

"What do you mean by 'more or less specific'?"

"In the Muggle world a natural Lunar Eclipse only occurs on extremely rare occasions- there are a lot of specifications about science and the placement of the earth, sun, moon and whatnot- I don't really know the specifics, Muggle Science was never really my forte.

"Any way, with the Equinox Binding spell, or any other spell that creates a Lunar Eclipse, many times they will be visible only to the couple and their witnesses. However, when the couple's love is exceptionally strong, if they are predestined soul mates, or even if they have a life bond (as Harry and Ginny do), the eclipse will be visible to everyone- Muggle and Wizard alike."

"I see," said Minerva slowly, nodding her head. "So since you and I saw the eclipse we can assume that everyone will have been able to?"

"Precisely."

"Well, I'm not surprised then. That also explains the extra fireworks at the end."

"You're not? It does?"

"No, I'm not. There were quite a few life debts going around that ceremony. In addition to Harry killing the Basilisk to save Ginny, he and Ron saved Hermione's life when they knocked out the Mountain Troll on Halloween their first year. My guess is that they also fueled the fireworks and that is why there were so many as opposed to just the one that the spell calls for."

"You are quite right, Minerva. My goodness, I had never thought of that. This opens a wide range of possibilities."

"Does it?"

"Yes, yes indeed. I don't think there has ever been an Equinox Binding on record where multiple life debts had been involved, and if you asked my personal theory, I believe that Harry and Ginny's love is exceptionally strong and that they ARE indeed soul mates."

"You really think so, Albus?"

"I do. Ginny is the seventh child of a seventh generation of Weasleys, and she is also the first girl born in six generations- there hasn't been a female Weasley since the line first began. Harry is the seventh generation of living Potters, and also the seventh heir to the Potter line."

"Is he really?"

"He is. Of course, you can always attribute the fact that James and Lily were soul mates (despite how they still wouldn't believe it, even after they were married). Harry looks uncannily like James—"

"And Ginny like Lily, except for the eyes."

"It is entirely possible, wouldn't you agree, Minerva?"

"Entirely possible, Albus. That means that they would qualify for all three special cases—that would most likely make this the strongest Equinox Bond on file. I noticed their markings were visibly silver and seemed to radiate, I imagine that must indicate the strength of the bond as well."

Albus nodded, and the two walked on in companionable silence for quite some time through the field.

"Ginny looked quite lovely," commented Minerva, "wouldn't you agree, Albus?"

Albus smiled, "Quite lovely indeed. I remember when Lily and James were married; I thought that I would never again see a witch so beautiful—present company excluded, of course," he added cheekily.

Minerva giggled and slapped him playfully on the arm. "I wonder where she got the dress robes from?"

Albus smiled malignantly, "Ah, that would be Mr. Potter. He placed an order through Madam Malkin for them, I suppose as a Christmas present, but thought they would be of better use this evening."

"What a lovely gift."

"Indeed… I imagine that Harry had quite the Muggle vision of his bride "walking down the isle in a glorious white gown", and so he gave her the robes early."

"Albus," began Minerva warningly, "just how much of a 'traditional Muggle wedding' did Harry have in mind?"

Albus blushed- he was caught.

"Ah, well, I might have neglected to mention that the customary "asking permission" isn't exactly, well, _customary_ in Wizarding weddings and binding ceremonies."

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" cried Minerva, scandalized. "Please do NOT tell me that you made that poor boy go all the way to Ottery St. Catchpole and ask Mr. Weasley for his PERMISSION to marry Ginny because a centuries old wizarding tradition happened to have **_slipped your mind_**!"

Albus shrugged defeatedly, "Well, all right then… I won't tell you."

Minerva threw up her hands, exasperated. "Oh, Albus! That must have been terrifying for him, how COULD you?"

Albus smiled, "I merely thought that with Mr. Weasley's fascination of anything Muggle (including traditions) and Mrs. Weasley's incapacity to turn down anything Harry asks when he feels he "doesn't deserve it" (when she would very well give him anything after the way the Dursleys treated him) that it _might_ be a good idea in order for them to accept the idea of their youngest child and only daughter marrying so young."

Minerva's jaw dropped. "Albus Dumbledore! You conniving **sneak**!"

Albus smiled and hummed to himself. After a while he said, "Well, Minerva, I don't think I would go _that_ far."

"That far as to call you a conniving sneak?"

"Yes, Minerva, that far."

"Albus, you and I know better than anyone else that a conniving sneak is EXACTLY what you are!"

Albus hummed to himself for a while again, and then smiled. "Why, Minerva, I think you might be right. But I am a rather _intelligent_ conniving sneak, you at least must give me that."

Minerva smiled, "Oh, all right, then. But _only_ that."

They walked on once more in a friendly silence until Minerva commented, "It was an impressive bit of charmwork when Miss Granger conjured those fairies."

"I must agree, Minerva, I must agree. No doubt we should mention it to Filius that she was able to achieve it. He would be most pleased- he has always been proud of Miss Granger's accomplishments."

"Indeed, indeed. And what about Harry's shield?"

Albus did a little jig, and once again reached into his cloak for his tin of lemon drops. "He's been researching, and I must say **_I_** was quite impressed. I'm sure you noticed, what with all my 'infernal buzzing about' and whatnot?"

The witch smiled slightly, and reached over for the wizard's tin. Helping herself to a lemon drop, she chewed contentedly before she commented, "You know, maybe I was wrong about these. Muggles certainly have a way with sweets."

Albus smiled, "Yes, they certainly do. Now, shall we adjourn to my office for some tea?"

The witch positively grinned at this thought, "Oh, _Al_,"—it was the wizard's turn to cringe now—"after all this time you would think that I know that when you ask me for "tea" what you're _really_ asking me over for is a large night cap."

The wizard smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Well, Minerva, you are wonderful company. Shall we?"

The witch nodded, and with a single 'pop' they both disappeared into the night.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Padfoot Returns**

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione arrived back to the Burrow to find Mrs. Weasley had nodded off in one of the kitchen chairs, knitting what were presumably baby booties by hand.

Ginny groaned, "Oh, not already, mum!"

Mrs. Weasley awoke with a start, and her needles began to click once again out of habit.

"What, dear? I wasn't sleeping, I was just… um—"

"Getting ready for more Weasleys, huh mum?" grinned Ron, cheekily.

"I was not!" cried Mrs. Weasley indignantly.

"Of course you weren't, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, patting her shoulder consolingly. "…You were preparing for little half-Weasley, half-Potters."

Mrs. Weasley blushed, "Oh, not you, too, Hermione!"

Hermione shrugged as Ron gaped at her, and proceeded to busy herself at the stove to make tea for them all before they turned in for the night.

"Would you all like some tea?" asked Mrs. Weasley, still behind the moment.

"Already on it, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione called from the stove.

"Oh, are you Hermione? That's nice of you, dear. So, how did it go?"

Ginny grinned, and showed her mother the new silver crescent moon on her chest.

"It marked you? I didn't know it would do that. That must have been a very powerful Binding Spell you invoked, dear."

Harry nodded, and said "A powerful spell for a powerful witch, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, and sighed, "Oh, Harry, I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you call me 'mum'."

Mrs. Weasley wiped tears from her eyes as she walked around the kitchen and hugged each of her children, biological, in-law and surrogate alike. Hermione brought the tea and biscuits to the table, but Mrs. Weasley waved the kettle away when it hovered over to her cup.

"I think I'm ready for bed, so I won't be having any tea, Hermione. Thank you for making it though, dear, it smells lovely. I just wanted to say how happy I am and see that you all made it home without splinching yourselves."

"We took a portkey, mum, we can't apparate yet!" said Ron, his mouth full of biscuit.

"Yes, I know that, Ronald, dear, I just worry."

Mrs. Weasley made one last round about the kitchen giving everyone a last hug before she traipsed up the stairs with her knitting needles still in hand.

"Oh, Ginny, dear?" she called, from half way up, "Dad and I set you and Harry up in Percy's old room, seeing as Percy obviously won't need it. You can head there when you're ready to turn in, and Hermione can keep your room to herself."

Harry grinned cheekily at Ginny as she blushed furiously and called, "Ok mum, um, thanks!"

Quietly stepping to the door, Hermione peeked up the stairs to make sure Mrs. Weasley was out of sight before she exclaimed,

"Ron! Your mum was absolutely **pissed**!"

Ginny snorted, and Harry snarfed in his tea while Ron merely shrugged.

"Well, what can you expect? Her "baby Gin-Gin" just changed her name and married the most wanted wizard in Britain.

"Now that I think about it, hitting the bottle doesn't sound like such a bad idea when you put it that way."

Hermione sighed and sipped her tea.

"Oh come on, Hermy!" cried Harry. "You have to admit it—"

"Admit what, Harry?" asked Hermione testily.

"That Mrs. Weasley was knitting baby booties in the kitchen in the middle of the night _the Muggle way_ because she was too drunk to do them by magic—"

"That it's insane to think that she has finally realized that Percy isn't coming back _without_ the influence of Firewhiskey—" Ginny added.

"That Mum would willingly set up the room for Harry and Gin to sleep in together _without a fight_—" chipped in Ron.

"That it's hilarious to see your mum finally hit reality because she was completely minged?" asked Hermione, her nose twitching. "Admit that? You can't make me…"

She burst out laughing, and the other three joined her.

Before Harry knew it Christmas had arrived, and he and Ginny had spent five blissful nights together in their new room at The Burrow. The morning dawned crisp and fresh, and dozens of packages had found their way to the foot of Harry and Ginny's bed.

"Happy Christmas, Gin," grinned Harry sleepily as he opened his eyes.

"Mmumph…" came Ginny's reply as she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Harry shrugged, and grabbed his first present. Sighing happily, he was about to open the wrapping when he realized that this was the first Christmas where he hadn't been awoken by Ron at the crack of dawn hollering about gifts. Glancing toward his sleeping wife he smiled, quietly donned his dressing gown and made his way up the stairs to Ron's room. Opening the door softly he found Ron still sleeping, packages piled high on the foot of his bed and some knocked to the floor.

"Happy Christmas, Ron!" cried Harry, laughing at the sight of Ron jumping and falling off the bed.

"Merlin, mate! You scared me half to death!"

Ron collected himself, and grabbed his dressing gown. Pulling it on, he turned back to his bed.

"Presents! Hey- why aren't you opening yours with Ginny?"

Harry shrugged and gazed towards his feet. "She was still sleeping, and… well, I always open presents with you on Christmas. I don't see why this year should be any different."

Ron grinned, "Aw, Harry, you're getting sappy in your married life. Tell you what, mate, I'll go get Hermione and you can wake Gin up. We'll open presents together in your room."

Harry nodded, and bounded back down the stairs to find Ginny still asleep and hugging his pillow in his absence. He wrenched it from her and laughed as she groped for it in her sleep.

"Morning, sunshine," Harry said softly as he leaned over to smooth back her hair and kiss her forehead. "It's Christmas!"

"Krimphmas?" Ginny mumbled.

"Yup, Christmas. You have to get up now, because Ron and Hermione are coming in so we can open presents together."

With much more coaxing Ginny finally sat up and grabbed her dressing gown from Harry with a yawn.

"Hermi-mi-mione's coming, too?" Ginny asked in the middle of a yawn.

Harry laughed, "Yes, love, Mi-mi-mione's coming, too."

Ginny glared at him as the door opened, Ron and Hermione traipsing in with Hermione groggily levitating their presents to the foot of the bed.

"Harry wake you up as well?" she asked the bed-tousled redhead, giving Ron an annoyed look.

Ginny nodded, "Boys don't know how nice it is to sleep in on Christmas. Open my present first, Hermione."

One by one the pile of gifts diminished until there were none left. The group was almost ready to go downstairs for breakfast when Harry pulled out his packages for them to open last.

"Sorry, I forgot to put them out for you guys. I hope you like them."

"Cheers, mate!" cried Ron, tearing open the wrapping. "And here I thought you forgot—oh, bugger, Harry, you DIDN'T!"

"Didn't what?" asked Hermione, leaning over Ron's shoulder.

"He got me FIREBOLT STOCK! Harry, mate, you're the best friend a bloke could ask for! I'm going to be RICH! I hear they're starting a new line…"

Ginny smiled appreciatively, and kissed Harry on the cheek as Ron continued on about all the possibilities the stock could bring him.

"That was a thoughtful gift, Harry. You know how Ron loves his brooms…"

"And his money," commented Harry, as much to himself as anyone else. "Here, Hermione, Gin, you guys can open yours together."

He passed the two small packages from Madam Amanda's shop carefully to each of the girls, and Ron tore his eyes away from his stockholder's certificate to see what they had gotten. The paper fell away and the girls both gasped at their gifts.

"Harry! This is gorgeous!" cried Ginny, picking it up to admire in the light.

"Oooh, Harry, I love it!" breathed Hermione.

The girls smiled at one another, and Hermione turned around so Ginny could fasten the gold embossed Aster hair clip in her curls.

"They're your birth flowers," Harry told them, as Hermione clipped a silver edged Lily of the Valley comb into Ginny's hair.

"The Aster one is supposed to be a Protection Talisman, and if you burn the real flowers they're supposed to ward off snakes. I thought it would be good, what with Voldemort and his snakes slithering around."

Hermione grinned, "Pretty and practical!"

"What's mine for?" asked Ginny, admiring it in the mirror Hermione had grabbed from the bedside table.

Harry blushed, and mumbled something that no one could quite understand.

"Harry! Don't be shy, just tell me!"

Turning an even deeper crimson, Harry said "It's Lily of the Valley- it's the flower of your birth month: May. It means "innocence" and it symbolizes the "return of happiness".

"I thought it was fitting, because, well… you make me happy, and I don't ever remember being happy like this before."

Ginny smiled, and blinked back a few tears. "I adore it, Harry. I can't wait to show Mum."

The group traipsed downstairs pajama, slipper and dressing gown clad as all good children are on Christmas morning. Ginny and Hermione ran straight to Mrs. Weasley to show her their new gifts from Ron and Harry while Ron sat down at the kitchen table and helped himself to Christmas breakfast muffins. Harry, seeking to avoid being bum-rushed by the any of the Weasleys about his presents made himself a large mug of tea and stared aimlessly around the kitchen for something to look at that wasn't Hermione and Ginny showing off.

The Weasley kitchen, belonging to a household of wizards was, in Harry's opinion, one of the best rooms in the world to find things to look at in. There was the enchanted mirror over the mantle, the various spellbooks on the shelves, moving pictures of every Weasley family member at various stages of life (excluding Percy, of course, who had appeared to have walked or crawled out of every one), the dishes washing themselves in the sink and, of course, the clock. Harry loved the Grandfather Clock that rested in the hallway between the Weasley's kitchen and living room. It could tell him all sorts of useful things like, for instance, the twins were "traveling", presumably on their way over from Diagon Alley for Christmas breakfast. Percy's hand had been pointing at "lost" for many months now- Harry supposed it was due to the fact that the family couldn't contact him, no matter how hard they tried- he was "lost" as far as the clock was concerned.

But there was something new about the clock that Harry couldn't place. He looked at its many hands- the twins' now pointed to "home"- and smiled at each familiar face. Arthur was "sleeping" along with Charlie and Bill. Ron, Ginny and Molly all pointed satisfactorily at "home" along with the twins (who were currently bounding around the kitchen passing out gifts), and Harry and Hermione were both pointed at—

Harry gasped, and beckoned Hermione to his side. He pointed his chin towards the clock and watched Hermione's face as she looked to see what he was on about. Much sooner than Harry, she had discovered what had been added to the clock. A wide smile lit up her face and her eyes sparkled with happy tears. She turned to Harry who smiled back at her with an equally soppy grin.

A warm set of arms embraced them together from behind, and kissed them each in turn on the cheek.

"Happy Christmas, you two," smiled Molly, her eyes brimming with tears. "Welcome home."

The rest of Christmas day was spent lazing about, playing with and admiring everyone's new gifts. Charlie had arrived from Romania just in time to harass Harry a bit about "cradle robbing" his baby sister, but it was all in good fun. After dinner a strange owl tapped at the pane, and Ron hopped up to open it. The owl hopped in with a grateful hoot, and along with it came several other owls swooping in bearing four long, thin packages.

"Anyone order extra gifts?" asked Charlie.

"Fred, George!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, "I thought I asked you not to have your supplies shipped here! If they're illegal, I'd prefer not to know about it!"

"It wasn't us, mum!" cried George.

"Yeah, mum, look! The letter's addressed to Harry," added Fred.

He handed it over, and Harry opened it gingerly, as if fearing it would explode.

"Who's it from, Harry?" asked Ginny, standing on her tiptoes in attempt to see over his shoulder.

"It's from the Firebolt Broom Line Company," Harry informed her, shrugging. "I don't know what they could be sending me, I already got my and Ron's stock certificates."

"Well, what does it say, dear?" prompted Mrs. Weasley, poking the packages suspiciously with her wand.

"Um… well, it's really long, but," Harry scanned down the letter, "oh, bugger. I hope this isn't what I think it is."

"What, Harry?" asked Hermione, nervously as she ran dark detecting charms over the packages with Bill.

"They want to thank me for my 'generous stock purchase' and hope that I will be happy with my investment."

"What else does the letter say, mate?" asked Ron, still trying to pull Hermione away in case the boxes were really a practical joke and decided to explode.

"Um, let me look…" Harry scanned down the letter once more, and came to a paragraph holding the information he needed.

"Oh, bugger! I can't believe it- they want me to promote their new broom line."

"New broom line?" asked Charlie, rushing over.

"Yeah, um, they made a new broom line and would like to pay me to promote it. I bet they were going to solicit me any way, but I guess since I bought the stock they probably thought I would jump at the chance to be Poster Boy for their line."

"That's not so bad then, Harry," Ginny said, thoughtfully nodding her head. "So what are they?"

"BROOMS, Gin!" cried Ron. "Honestly!"

"I KNOW that, Ron, but what KIND? And why would they want Harry to promote them, and not someone professional like Viktor Krum?"

Meanwhile Charlie had been ripping off the wrapping of the first package. He let out a hearty laugh, and passed the newly unwrapped and gleaming broom to his sister.

"Here, Snap-Dragon, see for yourself."

Ginny held it carefully, and her eyes beamed at the beauty of the craftsmanship.

"It's the name- the new line. It's called the "Lightning Bolt". That's why they want you to promote it, Harry."

Harry groaned, "Clever. Very clever. Just their luck I have a nice little scar to be a walking billboard for them. I bet they did it on purpose- I can't believe they'd stoop so low."

"Are you saying you're not going to do it, mate?" cried Ron in outrage.

"Hell no, I'm not! The last thing I need is for Draco to find out about this, seeing as we just finally started being civil to one another."

Hermione nodded, and then sighed. "I guess we'll have to send the brooms back, then. It wouldn't be proper to keep them and not promote the line. It's too bad, really- I rather liked your Firebolt, Harry, and these Lightning Bolts look even better."

"Come off it, Hermione!" Harry cried, scandalized. "There's no WAY I'm going to trade the broom Sirius got me- not for all the Gold in the world!

"I bet he only reason they thought of naming the new line "Lightning Bolt" is because I bought stock from them. I wish I never would have thought of it."

"Come on now, mate!" pleaded Ron. "That was the best gift I've ever gotten! You don't mean that."

"I mean it, Ron. I'm not selling out. It's bad enough the Ministry is trying to use me to keep the public from voting Fudge out of office- but now Quidditch companies, too? It's too much."

Ron sighed, recognizing defeat. He slouched to the table and stroked the broom longingly before wrapping it back up.

"Hermione's right, then, we'll have to send them back."

It was at this moment that Ginny shook out of her broom-induced reverie.

"WHAT! No way. I've never even had a new pair of **socks** in my life, much less a broom. I won't do it."

"But Gin—"

"Harry James Potter, if you even THINK about making us send these brooms back you are going to find yourself sleeping on the couch until you're as old as Dumbledore!"

"But Gin—"

"No buts about it, Harry! This is a good opportunity for **all** of us. You can get a little extra money for our children, Ron, Hermione and I all get new brooms—"

"But _GIN_—"

"But _Harry_," Ginny cooed, "you can donate 75 of your earnings to St. Mungos or some other charity of your fancy."

Harry paused, considering the matter. "I can?"

"Of course, Harry!" interjected Hermione. "And you could negotiate with Firebolt to have all of us in the photos if you want- that way you won't have to do it alone."

"Promise?"

"Promise!" cried his three friends, all jumping on top of him to swallow him in hugs.

Harry sat down to write his acceptance to Firebolt's offer, with the providence that all his terms and conditions were met, while Ron, Ginny and Hermione went to the living room to examine their new presents.

"I never thought you'd like brooms, Hermione!" cried Ron, nearly jumping with excitement.

"Well," she offered, "I'm going to need one for the school's new escape plans, and there's no way I'd be able to fly on an old school broom. I think that's the reason I hated flying so much in the first place."

"You know," Ginny added thoughtfully, "the Chief Executive Warlocks at the Firebolt Company sure are smart."

"How so?" asked Ron, while examining the tail of his broom under a magnifying glass. "Look- each twig has its own serial number!"

Hermione grinned. "They know Harry pretty well because of all the trash Rita Skeeter talks. They knew he'd never do it unless he had some MAJOR persuasion- that's why they sent four brooms instead of just one."

Ginny nodded. "Exactly. They knew it would be easy for **Harry** to just turn it down, but if refusing their offer meant hurting our chances at getting brooms, too, he would have to accept."

Ron looked up and smiled. "It's nice to know that my best mate is so damned predictable that even a large corporation with no personal relationship with Harry knows just how to persuade him- Quidditch supplies and baiting him through his friends."

"Good thing Voldemort doesn't own a broom company, " Hermione offered.

As the sun set, Mr. Weasley stoked the fire and the family spent a contented evening lounging in its warmth and enjoying other quiet activities. Mrs. Weasley was braiding Hermione's hair ("Ginny wouldn't let me touch her hair after she turned eight! How do you manage with it so thick, dear?"), Ron was playing Mr. Weasley at chess ("Aha! Check! That's exactly what the Ferret did, Dad!"), the twins were working on the rug, prodding a new experiment (BOOM!), Bill and Charlie were reading ("_Charms, Curses and Counter-Jinxes_" and "_Dragon Daily_", respectively) and Harry was resting his head comfortably in Ginny's lap while he wandlessly levitated a book for her to read (thus leaving her hands free to rub his head).

It didn't take long for Harry to doze off…

_He was back in the Department of Mysteries, hauling Neville up the steps. Harry knew the Prophecy had just smashed, and Dumbledore had just arrived. He also knew it was a dream, and yet he could do nothing different than he had in his memories, no matter how hard he tried. He heard Sirius laughing at Bellatrix Lestrange as she shot a stunner at him._

"_Come on, you can do better than that!"_

_Harry watched, horror struck, as the second red jet of light hit his Godfather squarely in the chest and Sirius's eyes widened in shock. Once again, Harry released Neville, just like he had a million times before in the dreams where he revisited his Godfather's death, and once again he bolted down the stairs toward the stone dais. It seemed that the conscious part of Harry's brain knew that although he was dreaming, and although there was nothing he could do to stop Sirius from falling through the veil, his unconscious was screaming at him to try._

_He heard Bellatrix's triumphant scream, and waited for Lupin to reach out and begin to restrain him, like he always did- it never came. Time stood still, and Harry remained the only one moving. He had reached the arch when his mind screamed for him to stop. Skidding to a halt, he looked around at those remaining in the chamber- every one was frozen in their tracks._

'_Odd. Normally I wake up screaming before this…Come to think of it- this has never happened before.'_

_Harry knew what he had to do. Stepping bravely, one foot after the other, he brushed the veil aside and stepped through to the other side where he now knew the Deceasengamot would be waiting. They were all present- his parents, Cedric and dozens of other wizards he didn't know. Harry watched the dais- he knew it would be pointless to try and talk to the High Court of the Deceased. It seemed like ages before anything happened, but suddenly there was a blast of wind and a body came soaring through the arch. Long, dark hair covered the man's face, but to Harry there was no mistaking the once elegant robes and the hands that could change at will into big, puppy paws._

_Harry was finally about to learn what had happened to Sirius Black after he fell through the veil._

_Dumbstruck, Harry floated toward the body and sobbed in frustration as his hand passed through Sirius's torso as if Harry were no more than a ghost. There seemed to be no concept of time in the land of the dead, and so Harry waited for what must have been hours (but really only seemed like minutes) before Sirius began to stir. He gasped a long, raspy breath before jumping to his feet, wand drawn into a battle stance._

"_Impedi—huh?"_

_Harry chocked back a sob- Sirius didn't die behind the veil! He was still alive!_

"_Sirius Black…" began an old bearded wizard Harry had never seen before, "I wondered when we would judge your fate."_

"_My fate? What the hell are you talking about?" Sirius cried, obviously confused about what on earth was going on._

"_Ah, but we aren't in Hell are we, **Padfoot** old friend? At least, not yet any way." _

_James rose from his seat, Lily stood next to him holding his hand. Harry was dumbstruck- he couldn't believe what he was seeing- his father's eyes had turned to ice, and his mother was looking daggers towards the man in the center of the semi-circle._

"_J-James? Lily? What's going on?"_

"_I'm inclined to ask the same of you, Sirius!" Lily admonished. "You were supposed to take care of Harry!"_

"_But, I— I DID!" he stammered, clearly not understanding. "I took care of Harry! I broke out of Azkaban so I could take care of him- I loved him like he was my own son, Lils, you know that!"_

"_Honestly, Padfoot, making up lies?" added James, shaking his head, "I thought you were better than that."_

_The old wizard coughed, and James and Lily sat down._

"_Sirius Black, you have been sent here by the Wizengamot to hold trial for leading a life of betrayal and committing double murder, an account so grievous that it is no wonder the High Court of the Living sent you here for us to deal with."_

"_Sent here? High Court? What on earth—now wait just a minute! I wasn't SENT here- I was HEXED here by that bitch, Bellatrix Lestrange when we came to save Harry from Voldemort!"_

_The wizard raised an eyebrow curiously, but continued on. "Be that as it may, all we see is black and white, evil and innocence. Only the righteous may pass through the veil and survive. Only the untainted may judge in this courtroom. Do you deny your traitorous actions?"_

"_Traitorous act—YES I DENY IT!" Sirius bellowed. "James, Lily! You know it wasn't me! Peter was your secret keeper—TELL HIM PRONGS!"_

"_Tell him what, Padfoot!" James cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "Tell him that you convinced us to have Peter be our Secret Keeper so he could out us to the Lord of Sod on **your** **orders**? Tell him how you used Peter as your alibi to cover your allegiance to Voldemort? Tell him how you left our son to be raised by the Dursleys and rejoin the wizarding world bruised and broken? How **could** you, Sirius?"_

_Harry was flabbergasted. How could this be happening? Didn't his parents realize that nearly 16 years had passed since they had died? Didn't they know the truth?_

"_He's INNOCENT!" he screamed, though he knew it was useless._

_Sirius rushed forward to where James was sitting, and pulled up his left sleeve._

"_Do you see a Dark Mark, Prongs? Lily, I was there by your side in the delivery room for 7 hours helping you to deliver Harry after James fainted! I thought Peter was the perfect bluff—who would suspect him? I would NEVER betray you- you know that! **Peter** was the one that sided with the Dark Tosser! _

"_Fudge sent me to Azkaban WITHOUT A TRAIL! I was there for 12 years! The only thing that kept me sane was knowing I was innocent! I broke out and swam to shore as Padfoot, hunted down Harry and took care of him ever since he was 13. He'll be 16 next month! I already bought his birthday present!"_

_James and Lily looked horrorstruck._

"_12 years in Azkaban? You did that?" Lily whispered. "For US?"_

"_Yes!" Sirius cried, exasperatedly._

"_Twelve years? The last trial we've had was Andrawlson, and that was the first after we got here…Cedric arrived just before that, but of course, he wouldn't have known about Padfoot… _

"_The lack of time-space continuum… …I believe you, friend" James said, nodding slowly._

"_We must let the Heliopaths decide," interjected the old wizard. "They will be able to see the complete truth."_

_Harry cringed- he knew what was coming, and didn't like it one bit. He knew Sirius was innocent, but that didn't make him want to sit through another round of Fire Demons to prove it. _

_The Heliopaths swept through the Deceasengamot and surrounded Sirius, their flames attempting to lick his body, but never coming in contact. In a flash they were gone, and suddenly there was a burst of brilliant golden light. Harry squinted his eyes, and when he opened them Sirius was still standing in the center of the Semi-Circle, only this time he was robed in gold and looked as healthy as he did at James and Lily's wedding._

_The old wizard nodded his approval. "Only the righteous may pass through the veil and survive." _

_Lily smiled, and began to wind her way down the steps towards Sirius, embracing him. "Only the untainted may judge in this courtroom."_

_She and James embraced their friend as the old Wizard spoke once more._

"_Sirius Black, do you acknowledge your death and accept your appointment into the High Court of the Deceasengamot?"_

_Sirius grinned, "You bet I do! Now when do we get to set those fire things on The Dark Sodder?"_

_The court laughed, and many nodded vigorously in agreed anticipation._

"_Welcome home, Padfoot," James whispered._

Harry began to feel himself float away, and soon he was staring into Ginny's wide, anxious eyes.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Hermione, who was kneeling on the floor next to him.

"Yeah mate," breathed Ron. "I don't think I've ever seen you have a nightmare like that! You went all shakey and started raving about innocence, and then you just went limp and peaceful."

Harry grinned and sat up, accepting his glasses from a still worried Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm fine. In fact- I'm completely content."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: The Secret Library**

The return to Hogwarts (via Portkey) was uneventful, and left Harry and his friends with several hours to unpack and relax before the rest of the student body arrived. Well, more accurately, it left Hermione, Ron and Ginny more time to relax- Harry had a meeting with Professor Dumbledore.

"Milky Way," Harry prompted, and the gargoyle jumped to the side. A short and smooth escalator ride later he was knocking on the Headmaster's door and being called to come in.

"You wanted to meet with me Prof—Albus?"

Albus grinned, and beckoned Harry to have a seat while he finished dictating a letter to his quill. Harry elected to remain standing and walked over to pet Fawkes, who was molting rather fiercely.

"Nearly time to burn, eh Fawkes?" he asked pleasantly. The bird chirruped in response. "You should get on with it, you know," Harry added. "Sanguine burned four days ago and you wont be able to fly together if you don't hurry and catch up."

Fawkes trilled once again and gave Harry what seemed to be a roguish wink just before he burst into flames. Dumbledore clapped softly and cried, "Ah, well done, Harry! I've been telling him to get on with it for days now!"

Harry grinned and shrugged, taking a seat in one of the chintz armchairs. "So what's up?"

Albus smiled, and offered him a lemon drop. The elderly wizard waved his wand and his desk was suddenly clean of parchment.

"Ah, much better. I called you here this afternoon, Harry, because I wanted to ask you how you were doing in your research?"

Harry shrugged once again. "All right, I suppose, sir. It's hard, though. I only go to the Library when I can't sleep, and although that's often, it's hard to sneak around Mr. Filch even with my invisibility cloak. Even then, the library's books don't really cater to what I'm looking for. I must have checked the restricted section a dozen times over by now."

Albus smiled knowingly. "I understand completely, my boy. That is why I have thought of giving you access to my own personal library."

Harry blanched, "You have your own library?"

Albus grinned. "Yes, Harry, I do. Well, I shouldn't be so selfish as to call it "mine", but it belongs to whoever the current Head of Hogwarts might be, so, at present, it belongs to me. I have decided that sharing it with you and possibly your closest friends (especially Miss Granger) might be of great help in your search to defeat Voldemort."

"Really sir? You would let me use your library? Oh- Hermione will be so jealous!"

Albus laughed. "Yes, Harry, really. And if you are so inclined to have Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Miss Weas—whoops, I beg your pardon—Mrs. Potter to be able to have access, I would not mind in the slightest.

Harry grinned, and tried to force down the blush that had resulted when the Headmaster had addressed Ginny as "Mrs. Potter". If Harry was honest with himself, he knew that it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world to be able to call Ginevra Weasley Potter his wife.

"I would like that, sir. But I also think that I would like to look around a bit myself first, just so I'll be able to help them find what they need better."

"Of course, Harry," Albus replied, giving a little wave with his hand so as to show he thought nothing of it. "If you would, then, please follow me."

Without another word, Harry followed Albus down the staircase and into the hallway. Just to the left of the gargoyle was a painting Harry had never paid much attention to, having only looked at that particular section of the wall for the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. Looking more closely at the painting, he saw that it was an old man sitting at a desk doing what appeared to be marking mounds of card catalogs for a library bookshelf.

"Excuse me, good sir?" asked Dumbledore politely. "Where is the library?"

The man in the painting looked up and smiled at Albus, then gave Harry a wink.

"Right this way, my good man," he replied, making a large gesture behind him with his hand as the painting swung open.

Harry couldn't suppress a grin. "Brilliant, Albus. No one would ever think of that as a password."

Albus smiled. "Ah, yes, it amuses me quite well. There is also an entrance through my office, but this one will be much more convenient for you, especially if I happen to be in a meeting and you need the library. After you, Harry."

Harry smiled politely and stepped forward into a very long, dark deserted corridor he had the strangest feeling he had been down before, although his mind ruled this quite impossible. Stumbling over a rough bit of carpet made Harry reach his hand in front of him and mutter _"Occaeco_ _Lumos", _as if on instinct. He heard the sharp intake of Albus' breath behind him, but other than that the older wizard made no sound. At the incantation, a burst of violet iridescent light swelled into a small sphere in the palm of his hand. Moving down the corridor he came to a fork in his path. Looking up, he gasped and turned to Albus.

"This painting! I've seen it before!"

Albus wrinkled his nose, perplexed. "Have you now?"

"Yes!" Harry insisted. "I just don't know where befo—hang on… it was in my dream! My dream last summer!"

Albus wrinkled his forehead, but in a thoughtful manner. "I trust you know how it works then?"

"Yes, I—I think I do, I—_Acclaro Arcanus Conclave_!"

He stepped in the roughly hewn rock seat, Albus sitting at his side as it turned, facing them into an old, beautiful library. Harry breathed a small sigh, and turned to Albus.

"It's just like my dream. I can't believe it."

Albut only smiled. "Well, then, I'll leave you to it. Where the corridor forks off outside the painting will lead you to my office. There is also a staircase hidden behind the third bookshelf on the right hand wall. Simply push the knothole in the wood and it will open for you. If I don't see you before I leave for the returning feast I shall come and get you, all right Harry?"

Harry nodded, and waved mutely as the headmaster disappeared thought the bookcase back to his office. Looking around, Harry breathed out in wonder. It was exactly how his subconscious had imagined it would be. The books hovered on shelves in the center of the room at exactly the right height for him to pull them off should he need them. Around the room, banked on the walls were numerous other shelves holding many objects besides and including books. Harry determinedly raised his eyes upwards towards the ceiling, almost afraid of what he was sure to find there. Just as he remembered, the most advanced dark books were defying all laws of gravity and lay enchanted beyond the ordinary wizard's reach- on the ceiling, and spelled with and incantation that only let them be removed by hand.

As much as Harry knew he should immediately levitate himself to the ceiling and pull down the book that called to him… he couldn't remember the name exactly… he desisted. He wanted to make sure to look around this entire library and learn as many of its secrets as he could. He decided to start at the back and work his way forward.

The back shelves contained cascades of History Books, including several dozen previous versions of "Hogwarts, a History". Harry couldn't help but smile.

'_Hermione would love those…'_

Taking a closer look around the outer perimeter of the library, Harry noticed that the shelves each specialized in a Hogwarts subject, all encased alphabetically from Arithmancy to Transfiguration. He made a special notice of the "Defense" shelves (there were seven), and felt around in his robes for a quill. None.

'_Bugger… don't they leave any in here? Even Pince has some she'll lend out to people like Hermione and Ginny.'_

The shelves in the center of the room caught his eye, and he saw four small podiums standing erect just at the perfect level for him to view. He gazed at each one in wonder, beginning in the center left. A small plaque indicated that the object in question (a small glass bottle with a lipid silver substance shimmering fluidly along its insides) belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and was the Silver Lining from a Cloud.

'_Wicked. I didn't think those were even possible to obtain.'_

Moving to the furthest left, he found a goblin-wrought silver wand holder, twisted into a snake with glittering emeralds for eyes. Harry didn't even have to read the plaque to know who this particular object belonged to.

'_Slytherin… must be his.'_

The second from right held what Harry took to be a crystal ball on a golden wrought stand of four badgers, paws extended, holding it aloft. Looking more carefully at the inscription on the plaque, Harry learned that he was mistaken. The ball was actually a "Power Sphere" that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Harry gazed into the ball and saw faint traces of clouds drifting along inside it. Feeling bold, he reached out both hands and carefully picked it up. Gazing into it once more, Harry lifted it to his eyes and watched as the clouds swirled round and round, before finally disappearing into nothingness, leaving the ball as clear as pure glass.

'_Odd… I wonder if maybe it's broken?'_

As Harry went to carefully return the sphere to its stand, he suddenly felt a warm tingle run up his arms, through his chest, up his neck into his face and down his torso all the way to the tips of his toes. Bringing the ball back closer to him, he gazed into its depths to see that it was still disappointingly clear, but that it had become warm around its surface. Staring still into its calm depths, he saw a tiny pinprick of white light form in its center, and begin rapidly flowing to the far outreaches of the sphere. Pure light engulfed Harry as he felt his feet suddenly lift from the floor, his body turning graceful somersaults around the sphere still clutched in his hands. He remained suspended in midair for several minutes, the warm tingling growing stronger by the second before it finally began to subside and lowered him to the ground. Carefully, he placed the Power Sphere back on its stand, and gazed at it curiously as the misty fog returned once again to float around inside it.

'_Strange… I'll have to ask Albus about that one. I'm glad it doesn't seem broken though.'_

The furthest stand on the right held what had originally captured Harry's eyes- a Golden Eagle Quill, belonging to Godric Gryffindor- standing solitary and quite unremarkable looking on its stand compared to the wonders of the other Founders. Grinning sheepishly, Harry looked around guiltily, as if making sure no one was watching, and carefully picked the quill up from its stand. He carried it to the lone desk in the library where several sheets of blank parchment lay, along with a full pot of deep black ink. Harry looked around the desk, and pulled out every drawer- no other quills were to be found.

'_Well, I suppose it can't hurt, just this once. I'll use it to write down the things I found most curious about the library and then I can review them with Ron, Hermione and Ginny when I bring them here tomorrow. …And I'll write down the best defense book titles we haven't read in the Room of Requirement so we can look at those first.'_

Smiling to himself at his wonderful logic, Harry loaded the quill with ink, feeling not so guilty about using it as he did before. Grabbing a sheet of parchment, he began scribbling furiously…

_Cloud lining—uses? (ask Hermione)_

_Power Sphere—what does it do besides levitate people? (ask Albus)_

_Defense Books—_

Harry paused, giving the quill a good shake, and looked down at his parchment. He gazed confusedly at the quill tip, and saw that yes, it was indeed loaded with black ink.

'_Well why is my writing showing up gold?'_

Harry reloaded the quill with the deep ink from the pot and continued his list.

_Defense Books—Werewolf Wonders, Advanced Hexes, Spell Improvement—_

'_What is going ON! That's it…'_

Harry marched straight from the Defense Shelves to the third bookcase on the right hand wall, pressed the knothole and sped up the stairs two at a time. Knocking politely on the only door that he figured must be Dumbledore's office, he decided last second to put a glamour charm on the quill to turn in any color but gold—he succeeded in turning it yellow.

"Ah, Harry! Back so soon?" smiled Albus, offering him a seat.

"Um, yes, I… Professor, I was wondering if you could write down for me the top four books of your choice from the Defense Shelves in the library so Ron, Ginny, Hermione and I could get started on those right away."

Albus gazed at him curiously. "Of course, Harry, I would be happy to."

Harry grabbed a sheet of parchment from the stack beside Albus' desk and placed the newly enchanted quill next to it.

"Here, Sir, you can use mine."

"Oh, thank you Harry. I never have been quite good at keeping track of my writing utensils."

Harry watched in interest as Albus loaded the quill with ink once more—black, Harry observed—and began to write in his neat, slanting script.

_Advanced Hexes the Ministry Won't Teach You to Defend (Much Less Cast)_

_Concealment and Disguise: The Auror Trainee Handbook_

_Incantation Discovery and Improvement_

_Shields of the Centuries_

"There you are, Harry," he smiled, handing him the list with a flourish. "I think that should start you off nicely."

Harry's eyes bore down the list, staring at it with scrutiny. He removed his glasses, squinted at the parchment without them, cleaned them, and then examined the Headmaster's writing once more.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" asked Albus concernedly.

"I'm not sure, sir," Harry answered honestly. "Watch…"

Harry leaned in over the Headmaster's desk and began to copy the list from the top of the parchment to the bottom, using the same quill he had just asked the Headmaster to use, not bothering to reload the ink. Albus watched with wide eyes as the ink poured neatly from the quill in the color of liquid gold and continued to do so long after the original ink Albus had loaded it with had run out.

"Let me see that, Harry."

Harry shrugged and handed it over. Albus tried to write with it, but it would not form a single letter. He dipped it in his inkwell again, and it formed a black inky spot on the parchment. He scribbled a few lines until the ink ran dry and handed it back to Harry, who wrote once again in the liquid gold, shimmery ink without having to load the quill at all.

"Is this possible?" Dumbledore voiced, more to himself than anyone else. "Harry, where did you get that quill?"

Harry blushed, and removed the glamour charm, returning the quill to its original golden color.

"I, um… I didn't have any quills with me, sir,"

"Please, call me Albus, Harry. You always call me 'sir', still, especially when you think you have done something wrong or are unsure of yourself. You should not be afraid of me, Harry. I think of you more as a colleague than a student when we meet like this, and my colleagues do not address me as 'sir'."

Harry blushed. "Sorry, Albus, I guess it's just habit. Any way… I um, well… I didn't bring any quills with me today because I didn't know I would need them. I wanted to make notes for Hermione, Ron and Ginny about the library so I would remember what Defense books I thought we should start with. I also wanted to write down what I needed to ask you if I had questions- like about the Power Ball. I have no idea what it does!

"This was the only quill I could find, and I didn't think it would hurt to use it just this once for a few notes but it started writing gold on me. I thought maybe it was enchanted so I brought it to you. I don't know why I disguised it, I just did. I didn't want its appearance to bias your opinion on why it was writing gold for me." Harry paused, "DO you know why it's writing gold for me, Prof—Albus?"

Albus smiled. "Yes, Harry, I do. In regards to the Power _Sphere_, we can discuss that another time when I am with you to see what happens when you hold it. Its explanation is a little confusing, and I must admit Helga Hufflepuff's writing is not the most legible. As for Gryffindor's quill—please follow me. I don't think you would believe me if I told you, so I'll let you read it for yourself."

Harry followed Albus back down the staircase and into the library. They headed straight to the back wall, where the History books were shelved. Dumbledore reached a bony, long fingered hand to the very top shelf (which had risen to be precisely at his level) and pulled down a book labeled "_Hogwarts: The Four Founders_". Opening it to the last section, Harry saw that the book was written entirely by hand- presumably each section an autobiography written by each of the founders themselves.

"Right here, Harry," Dumbledore pointed, indicating the last page of Gryffindor's section. Harry noticed the entirety of Gryffindor's autobiography was written in the same gold-like ink that came out of his quill when Harry had written with it. Harry read on, as Albus took a step back to observe the boy's curiosity from a distance.

_As is customary, I, Godric Gryffindor, have left behind one of my most prized possessions- my Golden Eagle Quill. I have been noted for (and teased mercilessly by my best mate, Salazar) quilling with Golden Ink. I have enchanted this particular quill so that any may write with it, but should an Heir or Heiress of mine come along and have need of it they shall never need fill its ink supply. The trademark golden ink of myself shall be visible for all to see should any member of my line happen across my Eagle Quill._

_Prophecy has said that the Heir of Gryffindor will rid the world of a terrible evil, but the heir shall not know himself until shortly before he will face this evil for the final battle. My heart is with you, young Heir, as is my blade. Call it forth when you are in need of it, and it shall come to you, wherever it, or you, might be._

Harry turned to Albus, his face bewildered.

"Me? _I'm_ Gryffindor's Heir?"

Albus nodded, eyes shining. "The one and only, Mr. Potter."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: A Pensive Truth, Relieved**

Harry never told anyone what happened with Gryffindor's quill the previous evening. As soon as he got back to the dormitory he deposited the memory into his Pensieve and decided to leave it there until the most opportune moment. He didn't know why he wanted to keep it from his friends or his wife, he only figured that it would get blown completely out of proportion and then somehow it would be leaked to the press- and that was the LAST thing he needed. He didn't want the press having a field day saying all sorts of slanderous things about Ginny. The possibilities were endless- how she was 'only with him for his title' or worse, 'his fortune and legacy'. Harry just didn't need that right now.

After he made sure the memory was securely locked in his Pensieve, Harry adjourned downstairs into the common room to find Hermione, Ron and Ginny waiting for him so they could walk to the returning feast together. It was wonderful to see everyone looking so refreshed and carefree back from Christmas Holidays, and the entire school had an enjoyable evening. After the feast it was back to the Common Room for a rather raucous game of Exploding Snap, and then Harry and Ron bid a rather sooty-faced Ginny and bushy-haired Hermione goodnight.

Barely one full day into the semester and Harry was already feeling ready for another Holiday. Classes had resumed in their usual gusto, and Harry began working with Professor Luenebraum more in depth on their Battle Tactics and escape plans. It was after they had a meeting with Hermione about an improved Stunning Spell she had formulated that Harry found himself sitting in the kitchens with his best female friend, discussing the most morose topic he could ever think of.

"Hermione," Harry began, attempting to keep himself busy with one of Dobby's Snickerdoodle cookies. "I—I want to talk with you about, um, the future and, um, my plans should, um—"

Hermione straightened up immediately, and took Harry's hand across the small table Dobby and Winky had set up for their evening snack.

"Harry, it's all right. Anything you want to discuss with me I won't tell Ron and Ginny if you don't want me to. I know it's harder to talk with them about these things, they're just… so…"

"Emotional?" Harry supplied, smiling slightly.

Hermione inclined her head briefly. "Well, I suppose that's a good way of putting it, yes."

Harry gulped down the last bite of his cookie and took a large sip of milk, immediately regretting that now he had nothing to occupy his hands. He reached for a napkin, and began idly shredding it into strips.

"It's just, well…"

Harry wasn't entirely sure as to where to start, but looking up finally at Hermione he saw her reassuring smile, and knew that it was his best friend he was talking to—his sister, really—and knew that bluntness would be the easiest path.

"What is it, Harry?" prompted Hermione.

"Well… ever since last summer, I've been having dreams."

"Dreams, Harry? You mean nightmares, don't you?"

"No- not nightmares, dreams. I mean, nothing like normal dreams. I mean, I had a dream about Dumbledore's library, actually, only I didn't know it was his library at the time."

"Interesting… Dumbledore told me he gave you access to the library. I have to say it must be fascinating!"

"It was- I mean, it is. It's just, my dream pictured the library precisely as it is in real life, only I don't know how it could because I'd obviously never seen it before."

"What are you trying to say, Harry? You're leaving out a key point."

"What are you talking about, 'Mione?"

Hermione laughed, and shook her head in Harry's direction. "I'm surprised Ginny hasn't pointed it out to you by now, seeing as she's known you for nearly six years."

"Pointed out what?" asked Harry, somewhat confusedly.

"When you're not telling the entire truth, or holding back information you're not entirely sure should be passed on, your hair flattens to your head- as if trying to hold it in."

Harry's hand immediately went to his scalp, which made the Hermione laugh even harder. He had always thought his hair had a life of its own, now this just proved it.

"Either way, Harry, you can tell me if you wish. On a strictly personal or professional level, whichever you feel more comfortable at."

Harry smiled, and sighed. "I feel comfortable at either with you, Hermione, you know that."

Hermione beamed, "Thank you, Harry. That's very kind. So- what's been bothering you?"

"In my dream- the one where I visited Dumbledore's library- I immediately found the book that showed me a way to defeat Voldemort."

"But that's wonderful news!"

Harry shrugged. "I know I should think of it that way. But… it makes me nervous."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah- nervous. I don't know why, but… well, it's like this—Now that I know I have a way to fight Voldemort, I almost feel as if it's a death sentence."

"Come on, Harry! Why would you feel that?"

"It's just that ever since I came back to the wizarding world and found out about Voldemort I've had this mission, you know, this ultimate goal of defeating him."

"I see…"

"And now that I know a way to defeat him, I feel as though once I do my life will be complete—that there won't be any reason to go on living. All I've been brought into this world to do is defeat Lord Voldemort. Once I've done it—what's left?"

Hermione sighed, shrugged and raised her hands to the heavens. "I honestly couldn't tell you, Harry. As much as I want to, there's really nothing I can say to convince you that life would still be worth living. That's something every wizard has to find out for themself."

"See that's the thing- I already know what there is to live for. There's Ginny. There's Ron and you. There's starting a family. And at the same time I wonder if after all the craziness I'll even be able to LIVE a normal life."

"Normal life can be just as crazy, Harry, let me be the first to tell you that!"

"I know!" Harry sighed. "That's why I'm worried about looking in that book. I'm afraid of what will happen after I do what I'm supposed to do. Maybe life will go to being wonderful. Maybe Ginny and I will raise a family and you and Ron will come to brunch every Sunday with your kids. Part of me thinks that. But another part of me keeps thinking that I'll be hexing everything that moves, blowing apart the baby's nursery because one of the toys has me thinking Voldemort is sneaking through the window!"

"I can see where that would be a problem. I think Ron, Ginny and I will have the same problem- though to a lesser degree, of course."

"You know how things are, what with me and the press and all, and— well, what would they say about me then? They would just go on and on about the Boy-Who-Lived is now the Boy-Who-Went-Mental. The press just…" Harry gestured hopelessly, looking for the words to describe just exactly how he felt about the press.

"You're tired of the lies they spill about you every other article, and I don't blame you, Harry. I don't know how you handle it sometimes—take this morning, for example."

Harry cringed, recalling the moment the owls came swooping in with the morning's mail. His ears were still ringing with the squeal Parvati had let out at the sight of _Witch Weekly's_ cover- a full, color shot of Harry and Ginny in their wedding robes.

"_Ooh, Ginny!" she squealed. "Wherever did you get these? They're GORGEOUS!" _

"_Wherever did I get what?" Ginny asked, with a mouthful of porridge._

"_These robes!" ogled Lavender. "And Harry! You're looking particularly dashing, I might add!"_

"_Um, Parvati," asked Ginny, giving Harry a worried glance, "can I look at that?"_

_Harry leaned over Ginny's shoulder, and his heart nearly hit the floor. Apparently Parvati and Lavender had been too focused on Ginny's wedding robes to notice the flashing title screaming "Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Married!" Looking to Ginny, Harry felt his heart ache for her. She didn't need this. As if she wasn't enough of a target already, now she was going to be number two on Voldemort's hit list- right between Harry (at number one) and Dumbledore (at number three)._

"_Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry—" he began, but Ginny cut him off with a giggle._

"_Harry, your hair really NEVER does lie flat, does it?"_

"_Um, no, Gin, it doesn't. You're not upset?"_

"_No, Harry. I'm not- this gets us out of having to tell everyone ourselves… in a surprising and cruel sort of way."_

_Harry grinned, and kissed her on the cheek. "Now I know why I married you Gin."_

"_Not my stellar good looks?"_

"_Nah, you always laugh off the serious stuff- but the good looks are nice, too."_

_The Witch Weekly article circled the Great Hall at record speed, with many taunts coming from the Slytherin table about Ginny being 'in trouble' and Harry doing the 'honorable thing' (Harry noticed that Malfoy remained uncharacteristically quiet). Congratulations and hexes alike came from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, and several blank stares of disbelief coming from the Gryffindor side of the hall. In all, the morning ended with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny having to leave the Hall deflecting hexes on both sides from wizards and witches alike jealous of Ginny and Harry's relationship._

"So what else did you want to talk to me about?" prompted Hermione, startling Harry out of his reminiscing of that morning.

"I want you to have my Pensieve," Harry blurted, following immediately by shoving another cookie in his mouth.

"What? Harry—it's your Pensieve! Don't you need to use it?"

Harry blushed. "Well, yeah, but I didn't mean NOW, exactly. I just mean… well, the Press, Hermione. If something happens to me, I—"

"You don't want people like Rita Skeeter making a highly-colored and inaccurate story of your life," Hermione supplied tactfully and Harry nodded gratefully.

"Exactly. If I—well, if things don't go as planned, I want the world to know what really happened. Because I know that someone will try to tell all about me even if it's just to make money, just some random witch making me out to be some stupid romance novel hero. I would rather have that person be someone I love and trust. Someone that has been there through it all, and can tell the truth for me."

Hermione smiled, and her eyes sparkled with tears at what her best friend was asking her. If Harry died, he wanted her, Hermione Jane Granger, to write his biography. To tell the truth to the world about everything from his life at the Dursleys and the Sorcerer's Stone to his marriage to Ginny and the final battle with Lord Voldemort.

"Harry," Hermione began, not sure of what she really wanted to say, "are you sure? I mean- there's got to be loads of better people to do this than me."

Harry merely shook his head and smiled. "No, Hermy. No one else has been there for everything. No one else but Ron, and we all know his essays are bloody awful. I could never ask Ginny to do it- it would break her heart to even have the conversation, let alone actually pick up a quill. You're the only one I trust with this, Hermione. Please say you'll do it."

Hermione dried her eyes carefully with her napkin, and nodded.

"All right, Harry. I'll do it."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Training the Troops**

The end of January was soon upon them, and Harry found himself once again in Professor Luenebraum's office discussing battle tactics.

"Professor?" Harry asked, while reviewing his notes. "I just don't see how we can convince everyone what they're up against. Most of these people have never seen Voldemort- they've only heard stories."

Professor Luenebraum looked up from his parchment and stretched. "You've got a fair point there, Potter."

He stood up from his desk and moved to the fire, stoking it, turning the logs so they once again flickered in a brilliant orange flame. His black eyes shone unsteadily in the light, as he began to pace.

"It would do no good to have them lose their heads as soon as the so-called Lord showed himself on the battlefield. They must know what they're up against."

"I agree, Professor," said Harry, calmly, "but the question is how are we going to do that?"

"I'm not sure, Harry," sighed Bertram. "Let's move on then, shall we? No point agonizing over something that we can't solve at hand."

"What did you have in mind, Professor?"

"How is your extra research coming along? Were the books I lent you any help?"

"A little, sir. Mostly for Hermione, I lent them to her so she could look up defensive spells to teach the other students. That, and she can probably make them stronger."

Bertram smiled tiredly. "That's excellent, Harry. If there's one witch I'm glad we have on our side, it's Miss Granger. I've never met anyone so intelligent, and I've taught at schools from the Pacific Islands to America to India."

"She IS brilliant," Harry agreed. "I wonder if she or Ginny will be able to think up a way to ensure people don't fall in a dead faint at the sight of Mouldy-Mort and his Death Sods..."

"Simple!" said Ginny in the common room that night. "You've got a Pensieve, Harry!"

Harry stared at her, unbelieving. "If you're suggesting that I—"

"Put the memories of your encounters with Voldemort in there and have the school watch them—yes!"

Harry shook his head. "No way, Gin, that's PRIVATE. There's no way I'm going to let the Slytherins watch my sorry excuse of a duel with Voldemort!"

Ginny walked over to him where he sat on the windowsill, and pulled him into her arms. "I know it's private, Harry, I know it is. But think about it, darling, think about it. Will you?"

"What's there to think about, Gin?" Harry cried, angrily, moving her hands away from his shoulders. "You're asking me to let people who have ridiculed me my whole life watch me when I'm at my worst! Watch all the horrible mistakes I've made! Watch Cedric DIE! Watch SIRIUS, Gin!"

"I know, Harry," Ginny soothed, "but really- you want them—no, US—to be prepared, right?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't want anyone to have to face what I did as unprepared as I was."

"Exactly, Harry, that's what I mean. Your memories are the best tool we've got to train everyone. They can see the tricks the Death Eaters will try to play if they see what really happened in the Department of Mysteries. They can SEE what Voldemort looks like, and how he treats his followers all from YOUR memories. They can learn how he's going to try and play with their minds. If there's anything that can dissuade people from joining Mouldy-Mort's Death-Shitters, Harry, it is your memories."

Harry sighed, and pulled Ginny in close to him, kissing her forehead. "You're right, Gin. It doesn't make me hate it any less, but you're right."

Ginny smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I can put my memory of Riddle's diary in, too. That will really drive home how manipulative he can be."

Harry smiled, but shook his head. "Riddle doesn't matter any more, Gin. Tom Riddle died with that diary— he pales in comparison to the monster that represents Lord Voldemort today. And besides- I would never ask you to live through that again. One of us is enough. I'm going to need you to hold me up through this, Gin, that's all I can ask from you."

Ginny smiled. "I'll always be there, Harry. No matter what."

The assembly that had been called for that Thursday evening came much too quickly, in Harry's opinion. Hermione and Harry decided that each person that would be taking in part in battle training should have to view the memories on his or her own, because that was how Harry had been and it was deemed to be the most effective—one couldn't always guarantee having an entourage with them when in danger. If the students were going to learn the lesson completely, the only way they could do it was on their own.

The students that were participating waited in the Great Hall, while Hermione and Ginny called them each one by one to step into a separate chamber where they would view the two memories in succession. Harry's and Dumbledore's Pensieves had been set up in two unused classrooms outside the Hall, so that way people could immediately go back to their common rooms after viewing the memories. Professors Luenebraum and Dumbledore stood outside each of the classrooms, ready to intercept anyone who was having exceptional difficulties after having viewed such graphic and traumatic incidences. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, waited in the Great Hall answering any questions for those who waited their turn.

"So we really get to find out what happened in the Department of Mysteries last year?" asked a rather inquisitive-looking Slytherin girl.

"Yeah," answered Ron. "But that's not the real reason you're doing this for—"

"Then why **do** we have to watch these?" interrupted a burly fifth year Ravenclaw, his arms folded resolutely across his chest.

"Yeah!" cried several others. Suddenly there was a burst of chatter throughout the Hall, people shouting questions on top of questions and even more accusations flew over the top of those. Ron simply stared at Harry, at a complete loss for what to do. Harry kept hearing snippets of sentences as the Hall rang with shouts.

"Trying to show off or something, is he?"

"—Trying to scare us all to death, more like!"

"You-Know-Who will be able to see us in the memory! He'll attack us!"

"—Are you crazy? There's no memory- they're just going to give us another lecture behind the door!"

"I don't want to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"—Who does, you crazy dolt! I hear You-Know-Who can shoot fireballs from his eye sockets!"

"No way! My dad said You-Know-Who can shoot lightning bolts from—"

"HIS. NAME. IS. VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, sparks flying from the tips of his hair. The Great Hall quieted instantly.

"This is EXACTLY why we're having you view these memories! It's not a joke! Voldemort is back, and if you all lose your heads like you're doing now he won't even have to TRY to kill you! You'll die of shock right there on the spot!

"Don't you understand? We're all that's left between him and the world, as we know it! The Ministry won't help us, for Merlin's sake, it took them an entire year to even believe Voldemort was back!

"If you can't face him in a memory where there's **no way** he can hurt you then how can you expect to survive against him and his Death Eaters in a REAL BATTLE? Where people are DYING right next to you?

"You need to go in there and FACE HIM **now**, so you know what to expect before it's too late. If you can't, then don't come back because I won't have your death on my conscience. I just can't deal with any more people dying because of me. Voldemort has killed everyone I've ever loved, and he's still trying to hunt down the few friends I have left, not to mention my WIFE! If you don't think it could happen to you then you really have no idea what he's capable of."

Harry paused, breathing hard, his eyes wild as the glanced rapidly from face to face around the Hall. He stopped on Malfoy, vivid green matching cool gray. Harry had looked into Draco Malfoy's eyes before, but for the first time Harry seemed to finally see. Draco stared back at him evenly, his eyes seeming quite soft in the flickering starlight of the enchanted ceiling. And Harry knew.

Draco opened up his mind, and Harry knew that the heir of Malfoy had no need to enter into the next room and see what Harry went through when he faced Voldemort. Draco didn't need to know what Harry felt like when Sirius went through the veil because of one of Voldemort's tricks. Harry knew that Draco, of all people, had been there already. Through Draco's eyes Harry saw not only Lord Voldemort torturing and killing Narcissa Malfoy in front of her son, but something else that shocked him even more.

Draco Malfoy was looking at him with the utmost respect.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: Tales of a Confession**

"Ron, are you coming?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, 'Mione. I don't know why you need me to come with you to the owlery anyway, it's not like you don't know where it is."

"That's not the point, Ron, you'll see why when we get there."

Ron's disposition immediately perked up. "Did you order me an early birthday present? My birthday's not 'til next month."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Remember how I sent an owl to the Ministry over Christmas Holiday about the Department of Mysteries?"

Ron groaned, albeit inwardly. "Yes, I remember," he said politely. "What did they say?"

'_Hopefully nothing,'_ Ron thought. '_Merlin, she's been on this brain issue for months now. If it's not bothering me—well, I try not to think about it, any way—then why is it bothering her so much?'_

"They actually took me seriously. A complete and utter shock, if you ask me. I think Fudge is personally doing anything he can to help Harry—even if indirectly—so it will make it look like he's doing a good job as Minister."

Ron snorted, "It's way too late to save his sorry career, not to mention his sorry fat—"

"RON!" chastised Hermione, holding open the owlery door for him. "Either way, it's quite kind of him. And it helps us—YOU, specifically—so why complain? I don't mind that Fudge is eating out of Harry's cauldron if it's going to benefit us."

"Wow, Hermione," said Ron, "I had no idea you could be so…"

"Vindictive?" she supplied. "Well, when it comes to important matters, like your health, you'd be surprised how far I'd go."

"Oh really? And how far would that be, Miss Granger?" and Ron, eyebrows waggling.

Hermione snorted, and replied nonchalantly, "Oh, I don't know. If it helped, I suppose I would go as far as to snog the Ferret."

"HERMIONE!"

"Yes, Ronald?"

"That's just—just—WRONG!"

"Oh? Is it? Well, I'm glad you told me, although it's already too late…" Hermione grinned at the look of horror on her boyfriend's face. "What?"

"Hermione. Seriously. Please tell me that you would NOT 'snog the Ferret' unless I were DEAD."

"Ron," cried Hermione, "I was just kidd—"

"I'm not!" cried Ron, reddening. "Promise me that you'll never snog the Ferret, no matter how bad it gets, unless I am dead and gone and he has done a complete personality one-eighty."

"Merlin, Ron, I was just joking, but, if it means that much to you…"

"It does."

"Okay. I promise never to snog, or do anything else intimately related, with Draco Lucius Malfoy unless my current boyfriend and love of my life, Ronald Bilius Weasley is deceased and the aforementioned Malfoy heir has turned into a completely normal, courteous wizard that worships the ground I walk on just as devotedly (if not more so) than the aforementioned boyfriend." She paused and drew a deep breath, "Is that good enough?"

"Better than I was hoping for. Now come here and snog ME!"

Hermione grinned and stepped into Ron's waiting arms. She spent the next quarter of an hour in relative hormonal bliss, until an owl hooted from a perch near her shoulder. Pulling away, she smiled.

"Excellent. They sent the search results," she checked her watch, "and right on time, too!"

"Um, 'Mione," asked Ron tentatively, "what was it _exactly_ that you were researching?"

"I was trying to find out exactly whose brain it was that attached itself to you, and, by doing so, possibly finding out why you're suddenly so high strung and emotionally conscious."

Ron gaped at her, trying to figure out what to say to her comment. The best he came up with finally stuttered out of his mouth in the form of "I am NOT high strung!"

"Tosh, Ron, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Last year you would have simply made a joke about how someone like Professor McGonnagal is high strung."

"Well, I—but—"

"Do you mind, I'm trying to read this," Hermione huffed.

Ron huffed right back at her and stomped over to the perch where Hedwig and Pigwidgeon had taken to roosting. "Hey guys, how's it going?"

Several moments passed, and Ron was beginning to get frustrated. He didn't understand why this was so important to Hermione. So what, big deal, a brain attacked him and he had consequently become as emotional as a postpartum witch. He didn't see what the problem was- it had, in fact, improved his instinct as to what girls were feeling and even helped him work out whatever Harry was currently pissing and moaning over. Sure, it made him especially more sensitive to sappy stories and female flights of fancy, but what was the big deal? It had certainly improved his marks in his classes- potions specifically- and he was even helping some of the younger students with their divination problems (even though he had dropped the subject out of disgust). IF the brain attacking him had made him smarter, albeit, a little more effeminate than a teenage wizard should be then Ron personally thought that the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

As Ron was mentally listing all the benefits of the brain attack (not mentioning the rather intricate system of scars that traced his arms and torso which had caused Hermione to pay quite soft, extensive detail to them every time he had his robes off), Hermione wordlessly passed the parchment to him, indicating that he should read it himself. He had just reached the ending salutation when Harry came traipsing into the owlery, Remus Lupin's birthday package in hand.

"Oh! Hi! I didn't know you two were up here," he said. "This isn't your new favorite snogging spot is it? A bit dirty, don't you—what's going on?"

Hermione just shook her head and guestured to Ron who, in turn, simply handed the letter to Harry. Harry took it gingerly, half of him expecting it to be a death warrant from Voldemort and the other half expecting it to be a notice from Firebolt Broomline Co. telling Ron that his stock value had tripled and he was currently one of the wealthiest school-age wizards in Britain. What he actually read was neither as bad, nor as good as what he had originally thought.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_In response to your inquiry of last summer's unpleasant incident regarding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Department of Mysteries, the staff (on behalf of a request made by the Minister of Magic) has made a full investigation and report of the confrontation involving Mr. Ronald B. Weasley and Wizarding-Intelligence Brain Test Subject #11658193._

_We are pleased to inform you that our inquiry was both fruitful and thought provoking to our department staff. WIBTS #11658193 was delivered to our testing facility in early November of 1981 and had originally resided in the body of witch _**_Miranda Goshawk_**_. Our team of experts has come to the consensus that the prolonged contact between Mr. Weasley and WIBTS #11658193 caused certain attributes of the brain test subject in question to be transferred to the wizard in question. Rest assured, Miss Granger, that all of our testing subjects are honored and notable witches, including the historical likes of Cliodna, Circe and Ptolemy, as well as the more recently noted Lilian Potter and Cassandra Trelawney. There is no need to worry that any of our brains ever bore any hostile intent toward any witch, wizard, or muggle._

_Although our only original intent of the inquiry (that concerning the effects of WIBTS #11658193 and Mr. Weasley) has been considered closed, our panel is now discussing the possible aspects of brain and stem cell research in combination with creating new intelligence and theories for learning. One can only hope that there will be a possibility of good to come from this incident. With the permission of Mr. Weasley, the Ministry of Magic would like to perform paid testing on the damage and side effects (positive and negative) that WIBTS #11658193 has had on Mr. Weasley's mental and physical health and personal well being._

_While the necessity of rehabilitation and physical therapy on Mr. Weasley's behalf is unprecedentedly regrettable, the Ministry of Magic has decided to make an attempt to compensate Mr. Weasley for his injuries. A separate document will be sent along to Mr. Ronald Weasley with more intricate details of how the Ministry plans on trying to make amends for this grievous incident. I, Benjamin B. Ripley (head of the Department of Intelligence Studies, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London) would like to personally inform you that the sum of compensatory fees being negotiated on Mr. Weasley's behalf currently stands at Five Hundred Thousand galleons personal maintenance funds (in addition to a full refund of all hospital and therapeutic costs from said incident) and is expected to rise should it be deemed necessary. I also would like to extend my sincerest personal apologies._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Benjamin B. Ripley_

_Head of Department of Intelligence Studies_

_Department of Mysteries_

_Ministry of Magic_

_London_

Harry carefully folded the letter and handed it back to Ron.

"So this is why you've been acting so off your broomstick lately? The brain that attacked you was the witch's that wrote half our textbooks?

Ron shrugged. "I guess so. I didn't even think there was such a department. You know, one that analyzes really great witches and wizards to try and find out how they can teach us all to be as great as them. They want to figure out what other benefits I got from being molested by that crazy woman's brain. I bet they're just itching to get their hands on Dumbledore's. And MINE after I die so they can analyze it after they're done with their tests while I'm alive."

"But they want to pay you for it!" cried Harry. "Ron, that's great! You could get a lot of money for that."

"I don't know about that whole 'brain and stem cell research' thing though," said Hermione, shaking her head at the letter. "Sounds awfully wooly to me."

Harry and Ron shivered.

"I wouldn't want anyone to have to go through being attacked by a brain! And as for stemp sell research or whatever, I'm just not even going to go there." Ron said.

"It's stem cell, Ron, and I wouldn't either," agreed Hermione.

"Yeah," added Harry. "But seriously, I knew my mum was supposedly brilliant, but I didn't think she was smart enough to have her brain donated to magical science."

"Hmmmm…" pondered Hermione. "Someone must have given it to the department to try and figure out what she did that kept you alive from Voldemort's killing curse… Maybe to see if there is really a counter-curse or something that we don't know about."

Ron nodded. "That would make sense."

Harry frowned. "I don't know… I don't like it, either. I mean, this is my MUM! They didn't even tell me!"

"How would they have, mate?" asked Ron. "I wouldn't fancy having to have that conversation with you- 'Oh, by the way, Harry, after You-Know-Who snuffed your parents we decided to donate their brains to science to see if we could squeeze any other useful information out of them about the crazy murdering git'."

"My poor mum. She can't even rest in peace! Now they're just sitting there, probing her brain day after day. I don't like the thought of Voldemort being able to get his hands on any form of a counter-killing curse, or other complex spells that could have been formulating in any of the other brains" said Harry.

Now it was Hermione that shivered. "I agree. The best we can do is hope that by the time they find anything we have a Ministry that's not full of corrupt politicians."

Harry and Ron stared at her and Hermione groaned.

"We're doomed, aren't we?"

Harry and Ron nodded, and the golden trio snorted with laughter all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26: The Second Altercation**

Ron's seventeenth birthday came and passed with much frivolity and celebration in the Gryffindor Common Room. Although there were no embellished drawings to hang around there were certainly many jokes running rampant from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Things had been going well, all things considered. Harry and Ginny were getting quite frequent times to be alone together (in the boys' dormitory and otherwise), Ron and Hermione were keeping their bickering to a minimum (something Harry and Ginny attributed to the couple's frustrations with one another being taken out in deep snogging sessions) and the separate squads for the emergency evacuation committee were training harder than ever.

As it would, Murphy's Law seemed to be screaming to prove its existence and power. It had its chance on the rainy afternoon of March 25th. Harry was waiting his turn in the corridor for a surprise practical Charms quiz when the alarms began to sound. Glancing to Ron and Hermione they gave each other a nod and headed immediately for their positions; Harry to the Great Hall, and Ron to the Gryffindor portrait hole (password 'emergency evacuation') with Hermione right behind him, sealing all the classrooms. As soon as he was out of their sight, Harry began to run. All the way down the Charms corridor, through three secret passages and in a matter of minutes he was standing at Dumbledore's side.

"I take it this isn't a drill, sir?"

Dumbledore shook his head, but didn't outwardly reply directly to Harry. Speaking directly into his wand he stated the password ('victory for Slytherin') and began to check the school's status.

"This is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, contacting to check all students' locations and evacuation progress. Urquhart and Malfoy, is your entire group accounted for?"

It was Urquhart's harsh rasp that returned reply. "Yes, sir, Daphne Greengrass has just returned from sealing the classrooms with Blaise Zabini. All is in order."

Albus repeated the password, changing to the corresponding house, and proceeded to check the rest of the school while Harry stepped beside Professor Flitwick as he cast a tricky little charm on the front door to the castle, enabling them to see right through it. Taking his Omnioculars from his bag, he passed them to the tiny Professor.

"Ah, yes," he squeaked, "there are about fifty Death Eaters at our front gates." Passing the Omnioculars to Harry, the young man confirmed the Professor's statement.

"They're just sitting there, though. I think Professor Dumbledore should see this."

'_Albus,'_ he called, _'there are approximately fifty Death Eaters at the front gates, and they seem to be waiting for us to make contact with them.'_

Albus gazed inquiringly at Harry, then spoke into his wand once more.

"All houses report- are all elementary evacuees safely to their evacuation points?"

"Slytherin affirmed!"

"Roger, Ravenclaw!"

"Hufflepuff all accounted for!"

"Gryffindor's all set, sir!"

"Excellent," replied Dumbledore. "All elite evacuees report to their watch points, please."

He joined Filius and Harry at the front door, but did not ask to view the gates through the Omnioculars. "Quite interesting, isn't it?"

Ron, Ginny and Hermione were of the first to arrive, their knowledge of the castle's many secret hallways nearly as vast as Harry's.

"Dumbledore sent us to our watch points," Ginny told Harry as she strapped her emergency port key to her wrist. "It can't be that serious, then, can it? I mean, if he didn't evacuate us as well?"

"See for yourself, love," Harry answered as he handed her the Omnioculars.

Ginny passed the Omnioculars on to Hermione with nothing more than a pensive 'hmmm.'

"Headmaster!" Hermione called. "They're sending something our way. Should we open the door?"

"No, Miss Granger, thank you," Albus replied as he stepped graciously over. Waving his wand at the door, a small door appeared within it, almost like a cat door, but at the headmaster's eye level.

A memo flew through not long after, fashioned like one of the paper airplane messages that Harry knew to fly around the Ministry. Knowing it would be impolite to read over the headmaster's shoulder, Harry took a step back and waited for him to dictate what everyone should do.

"Lord Voldemort wishes to make negotiations with us, and has delegated his Death Eaters here to do his dirty work."

"What?" cried Ginny, who was surprisingly echoed by many of the Professors behind her.

"Surely he can't be serious, Albus," cried Minerva McGonnagal.

"Oh, yes, he seems to be," replied Albus to her, and then to himself he muttered, "at least, as serious as Lord Voldemort could be when attempting to fool us into thinking he is actually trying to negotiate." Into his wand, though, he said calmly, yet with authority, "Everyone should report to their battle stations, please, everyone report to battle stations."

Ron snorted, "So much for negotiating."

"Ah, well, Mr. Weasley," replied Dumbledore seriously, but his eyes were smiling, "I have never known Lord Voldemort to, ah, "negotiate", as he has so put it. I do not want to be caught unawares."

Dumbledore opened the doors magically, and raised the gate. The staff behind him, including Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny (whom Harry had made it clear he would go nowhere without), they made their way to the front gates. The Death Eaters were holding their wands out in front of them, flat in their open palms, as a gesture of good intent.

"Step nowhere in front of me," Dumbledore warned, while they were still out of earshot. "They are actively trying to disarm the wards on the gates from further up the road. Harry, if you wouldn't mind putting that wonderful shield over us all, I would be glad to assist you in strengthening it."

"Sure thing, sir," Harry replied as he readied himself for the spell. Albus 'assisted' him by making it so that it was never seen to have been cast.

They had reached the gates and the fifty Death Eaters there waited patiently as the assumed leader, who Harry recognized immediately to be Lucius Malfoy, made his way forward.

"On behalf of my most gracious and eminent master, I have come to negotiate a bargain."

Lucius made a half bow, to show courtesy, and Harry couldn't repress a snort. Hermione seemed shocked and worried on his behalf, but Harry simply smiled- Lucius Malfoy frightened him less than a Flobberworm.

"A bargain, then?" repeated Dumbledore, stroking his beard as if in consideration. "And what master would you happen to be representing? I don't remember you from the Egyptian Delegation of Wizards last summer, but, being as old as I am, perhaps you might have slipped my mind?"

Now it was Ron's turn to snort, and even Hermione joined Professor McGonnagal in a thin lipped smile.

"Now see here, Dumbledore!" cried an outraged voice from that back. "You know exactly with whom you are dealing!"

Ginny looked to Harry- this voice was new. She didn't recognize it from any Death Eater they had previously encountered. Harry didn't have time to look back in reply- Dumbledore was speaking to him.

'_The gates are coming down, Harry. Warn everyone on your side, and I shall pass the word along to mine.'_

Harry inclined his head in the briefest of acknowledgements before he stood on Ginny's foot and moved his chin a fraction of an inch towards the gates, and then to the ground. Ginny understood immediately and began to pass the message along. Lucius Malfoy was speaking again, and Harry couldn't help but get frustrated with his aristocratic drawl.

'_Good God, is he still talking? No wonder the Ferret turned out the way he did. I'd go nutters if that were my father, too! "Cessation of hostilities"—honestly, what a load of dung!'_

Dumbledore let out a snort of laughter, and Harry grinned. _'I suppose you heard that, Albus?'_

Dumbledore grinned while Lucius scowled under his mask. Finally, Harry had had enough. With a flick of his wrist Lucius' mask flipped off of his head and fell to the ground.

"Oh, Lucius!" he simpered. "I can't say it's nice to see you, but," Harry grinned maliciously, "well, I can't say that Azkaban has been good to you, either. But how ARE you? The hollow-eyed look does such wonders for your bone structure."

"Ah! Of course it does, Harry, quite lovely I must say," agreed Albus. "Well, Lucius, now that I can see that face of yours I recall exactly what master you are acting on behalf of. Now, what exactly was it you were—ah, look, some friends of yours seem to be coming along the way! Maybe they'll be able to explain it in terms we can understand."

It seemed Lucius had had enough. He raised his wand and screamed a hex large enough to cover the whole of those on the Hogwarts side of the gate, had they not been protected by Harry's shield. The spell fizzled, crackled and died; leaving a stumped Lucius staring blankly back at Harry and Dumbledore's smiling faces. There was s subtle 'pop', and every Death Eater fell to their knees.

"You shall pay for your disobedience later, Lucius," hissed Voldemort, "but in the meantime… well, I never expected you to succeed any way. Surely, Dumbledore, you know how hard it is to find good help these days—using children on your front line? Not something I would expect from you."

"But you'll know all about how hard it is to defeat children," spat Ginny, "wouldn't you _Tom_?"

Harry stood straighter. Not a day had passed where Ginny hadn't made him the proudest man on earth that he could call her his life mate.

"Ginevra… Yes, how well I remember the little redheaded trollop…"

"That's Mrs. Potter to you, Tom" Harry spat, raising his wand.

"Not that I ever gave you permission to address me in the first place," chimed Ginny, raising her wand simultaneously with Ron and Hermione.

Voldemort made a mocking half bow. "May I offer my congratulations to you on your recent wedding, then, _Mrs_. Potter. Let us hope you don't live long enough to regret it."

Voldemort's hand twitched towards his wand, but he let it lay.

"The only person that regrets Harry is YOU, Voldemort," said Dumbledore placidly.

"I regret nothing, Dumbledore, nothing, except this conversation."

Turning to Harry, he smiled, twisted and evilly, and his red eyes seemed to glint with fury.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Potter."

"Nor you of me, Tom."

"Let this be your first and final warning, Harry Potter. The Dark Lord will not rest until you grovel for mercy at his feet, begging for death."

"Pity," Harry snapped. "You're going to be waiting a long time, Tom. I will never do anything at your feet… except for this."

Harry spat directly at Voldemort, and it landed on the hem of his robes. Voldemort seemed displeased, but not nearly as disturbed as Harry would have liked.

"A mistake, Potter. One of many, but one of your last. You cannot defeat me, Harry; I will destroy you and all you care about. Starting with this wretched school."

Voldemort snapped his fingers and at once his team of Death Eaters charged forward as the gates collapsed. All Harry heard was Voldemort's cold, cruel laughter ringing in his ears as the evil wizard disapparated.

Profesor Flitwick quickly rounded off a spell and a huge blue wall of fire rose in front of the Death eaters. Harry silently thanked the Charms Professor for his quick thinking- this would give them time. Harry turned and ran toward the castle doors, Profesor Dumbledore casting simultaneous patroni charms behind him, and watched as they flew to what he could only presume was the Order on Stand By. Shooting a few stunners, hexes and shield charms behind his back for good measure Harry was nearly to the castle when he heard Dumbledore's instructions inside his head.

'_I will summon two barricades just inside the initial gates, Harry. Hopefully you and I can keep them from entering the castle. Be ready.'_

Just as soon as they were both across the threshold, two huge stone walls rose to a height perfect for each of them to fight behind. Harry threw himself behind his wall, and not a second had passed when the Death Eaters finally realized that the charmed wall of fire cast by Flitwick was extinguished by mere water, and they charged up the hill. Harry could see huge chunks of stone flying out of the wall in front of him as they threw spell after spell at them. Grinning, Harry leaned out and hexed the four nearest the wall.

'_Old Flitwick had them on. It was so simple it took them forever to figure out the counter-charm.'_

'_Yes, Harry, he certainly did. Watch your right side, you've got Lucius and his cronies coming for you.'_

'_Thanks, Albus. Sometimes it really is just a simple charm to get what you need.' _

"Impedimenta!" Harry screamed, and the Death Eater to Lucius' right was knocked backwards into the castle wall. Crouched down, Harry could hear the dozens of shouts of 'reducto' from behind him in attempts to shatter the stone barricade.

"_Shit,"_ he thought. _"This isn't going as well as I hoped."_

"Harry!" screamed Dumbledore. "Fall back! Get inside the castle!"

Turning, Harry nodded at his mentor and ran to the base of the stairs inside the doors to see his wife and two best friends waiting for him, wands at the ready. He stood, directed his wand at the wave of Death Eaters coming at the castle and yelled "Furuculus, Impedimenta, Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy." Before his brain could react to plan for the next string of hexes he saw a group of Death Eaters fall, tripping some of their comrades behind them. When his brain did catch up with him and saw that those that had only been tripped were standing again, looking rather peeved, Harry looked to his friends and they screamed, "PROTEGO!" saving themselves from what turned out to be several Crucios, and grinned as they rebound on their castors.

Harry scanned the room, ready for the incoming wave, when he saw a spell bounce off the front door and fly right at Proffesor Sinistra, whose head snapped back painfully just before flopping to the floor. Harry thought nothing of Madam Pomfrey as she ran forward to see if there was anything she could do, and continued to scan the entrance hall. Groups of people were standing all around, every one of them in a dueling stance. The Gryffindors just inside the doors to the Great Hall, listening to shouted instructions and warnings from the Ravenclaws at the top of the stairs. The Slytherins guarded the entrance to the dungeons, and the Hufflepuffs had stationed themselves in front of the hallway that led to the kitchens and staff homes. Each group had their own huge stone barricades, and each was holding its own. Everyone was in his or her place, and Harry was glad of it. He rushed over to the doors only to see Dumbledore still holding back the enemy on his own, but getting ever closer to being hit.

"Albus, everything is ready! You can fall back!" Harry screamed.

Breathing heavily, the pair backed towards the stairs yelling, "_Flagratem Incendious!_" Another wall of fire erupted, but this one couldn't be quenched by water- in fact, water made its height increase.

Not thirty minutes after the Death Eaters' arrival the battle in the entrance hall was going nowhere, fast. Inside, the students and staff were easily holding back anyone trying to enter the doors. Suddenly, the focus of the pillaging Death Eaters turned and ran back out onto the grounds, seeming to realize that they were getting nowhere whilst inside. En masse, the school rushed forward and Dumbledore re-cast his barricades just outside the doorway. The battle raged on, but Harry noticed that it didn't seem to be directed at the school any longer. A man in a grey cloak was battling a group of Death Eaters outside the safety of the barricade single-handedly, and, in Harry's opinion, was doing quite well.

"He can't keep that up for long by himself." Ginny stated.

"They'll rush him from behind!" Hermione cried.

"What do you think, Harry?" asked Ron, wickedly.

"I know, they're right." Harry agreed, and without another word he and Ron launched themselves over the barricade and rushed to the cloaked man's aide. Banishing a group of Death Eaters with his wand he reached the man quite quickly.

"Need a hand?" Harry asked pleasantly, while Ron shouted a reductor curse to blast a large hole in the ground, and consequently, blowing a group of ten Death Eaters back towards the front gates.

"Nice to see you Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," the man said, turning his head briefly to Harry before continuing to battle as though nothing had happened. Ron, Harry and the mysterious man in the grey cloak, depleting the Death Eater's army one by one, cast spell after spell but it wasn't enough. Support came from the castle doors when Ginny and Hermione ran screaming after Ron and Harry.

"Watch out!" cried the grey-cloaked man, deflecting a stunner aimed at Hermione. He had turned his back, and Ron caught Lucius Malfoy raising his wand.

"Avada—" 

"GET DOWN!" Ron screamed, throwing himself on top of the mysterious helper. The curse shot directly over their heads, just missing them. Ginny shot a retaliatory stunner at Lucius, but missed. The man threw Ron off of him and stood up, aiming his wand at Lucius.

"Cuttera! Sectumsempra!" he screamed, directing his wand at the blonde Death Eater's face. _"Ultimatus Bombarda!"_

The Death Eaters were thrown back from the grounds towards the entrance where the battle had begun. Harry saw each of the Death Eaters wince slightly as they picked themselves up from the ground then run for the gates and disappear with their many "pops", leaving any unconscious, injured and dead behind. The Hogwarts army let up a cheer at their victory as Dumbledore rounded up all the fallen Death Eaters and bound them in an Anti-Disapparation jinx.

Harry had just turned to find Ron, Hermione and Ginny when he heard in his ear, "Wait for me, Mr. Potter, I will be back."

Harry turned to find the Unknown Man handing a bit of parchment to Dumbledore, and then walking back towards him.

"Who IS that guy?" asked Ron, excitedly. "We need good fighters like him!"

"He nearly got himself killed!" cried Harry.

"Yeah," admitted Ron, "but it was because he was blocking for Hermione! He saved her life!"

"Um, Ron, it was nice and all, but it WAS only a stunner."

"Whatever! Stunners hurt! Ask McGonagall!" Ron scoffed. "He can watch my back any time."

"True—good thing you were watching his, though" Harry commented.

"I—well, I—" Ron began, but the mystery man's return from Dumbledore's side silenced his stuttering.

"Who are you?" Harry asked blatantly.

"I am the Grey Knight, and nothing more." He turned to Ron, "Ronald Weasley, I thank you for saving my life today. I owe you a life debt, and I intend to repay it."

Ron shook his head. "No way. You don't owe me anything."

"Mr. Weasley," the Grey Knight protested, "you know that it's impossible to—"

"Never mind me, I said!" Ron huffed. "I want you to take the Life Debt you owe me and transfer it to Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger?"

"Yes! Hermione Granger! If I had been watching out for her in the first place like I should have, you wouldn't owe me anything. If for some reason I can't be there for her, I want to make sure someone will be! Harry's got too much to worry about all ready. Wizard's oath- I remove the life debt you owe me, so long as you transfer all it entails to one, Hermione Jane Granger."

Ron stuck out his wand and waited for the Knight to acquiesce. "Bind it, Harry," he said as soon as the Knight's wand touched his own. Harry shrugged and bound the oath.

The Knight nodded, and turned to Harry. "I will be around to assist you in any way I can, if you need it, Harry Potter."

Giving a short bow summoned a broom from a few meters away and disappeared around the North tower. Harry thought how he would not likely ever fully comprehend how odd a day it had been, but shrugged started to head back towards the entrance with Ron. As he came around the barricades Ginny grabbed him and hugged him, let go and slapped him across the face.

"Don't you EVER rush off into a battle like that again, Harry James Potter! You nearly gave me a heart attack when you jumped that barricade!"

Harry smiled at her. "Yes dear," he replied, and scooped her into his arms when she sobbed. After he let go and walked further into the castle and a small cheer came from four corners of the entrance hall.

He sighed, and shook his head. "Don't get your hopes up. We may have won the battle, but the war is far from over. This is not a complete victory. Voldemort will be back."

"Proffesor Flitwick!" came a startled cry. "Quickly!"

Over at the top of the stairs, one of the Ravenclaw girls in Harry's year was holding another student in her arms, crying.

"That's Sarah Fawcett," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear.

"Who's the other girl?" asked Ginny, nervously leaning in.

"Her sister, Mellisa," Ron supplied. "She was one of the best in the escape group. Loved to take time to help younger students."

Professor Flitwick ran over, helping Sarah to levitate her sister down the steps to where Professor Dumbledore was waiting. When they reached the bottom, Snape and McGonagall both approached the headmaster.

"Sir, Slytherin House has sustained one loss," Snape stated without feeling- Harry could have hit him. "Mr Zabini," he continued, "and a few minor injuries, but otherwise they're fine."

Harry had barely even registered the remainder of the report when his own Head of House stepped forward.

"Albus we—"

Rushing steps could be heard as a dozen people ran up the walk and into the hall. Albus turned and saw the group of Order Members that had arrived. Turning to Remus and Arthur as they hugged Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione, Albus muttered a few sentences before checking on the rest of the group.

"I thank you for coming, but all is taken care of. If you could wait for me in my office, I would be happy to debrief after I have handled the situation here."

The Order Members nodded, applying healing spells where they could along the way to the headmaster's office.

"Minerva you were saying?"

"Yes, Albus, we…" McGonagall's voice broke, and Hermione passed her a handkerchief. "We lost Mr. Thomas, and I believe the Creevey brothers will be fine—Poppy is taking care of them—touch and go, really, but… Professor Sinistra is gone, and the Hufflepuffs… "

"I'll see to them," Albus said gently, giving Minerva a pat and heading towards the Hufflepuff crowd where Professor Sprout was standing. Harry saw a boy lying on his stomach where Dumbledore's presence had parted the crowd. The headmaster approached and slowly rolled him onto his back. At first all Harry saw was the dark shock of hair, much like his own, but after a second he realized… one of his few out of house friends was lying dead on the ground.

"Oh, Justin… Oh no."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: Grey is the Knight**

April found Hermione and Ginny in the Common Room supposedly studying late one Friday evening.

"It's no use!" Hermione snapped, slamming her book shut.

"Earth to Hermione," Ginny said gently. "What's been with you lately? You've been unable to concentrate on any of your books since the battle nearly three weeks ago. Are you ill?"

"What?" Hermione asked, shaking her head as if to remove excess water.

Ginny sighed and closed her book gently. "I know. I can't concentrate. We need to do something about cheering up the castle after this whole mess."

Hermione sighed, shaking he head once more, but this time more gently.

"No—I mean, yes, we should do something to shake the castle out of this funk, but that wasn't to what I was referring."

"And to what, or _whom_," Ginny grinned, "might you be referring?"

"Ha ha, Gin," Hermione snapped. "You think about it and tell me it makes sense, then."

"Hermione, I can't do that."

"Ha, then. See? I told you it's no use."

"No, Hermione, I can't do that until you tell me what you're bloody talking about!"

"What? Oh. The Grey Knight, of course. It makes no sense. He stopped the Death Eaters from doing any more damage, Ron stopped Lucius Malfoy from hitting the guy from behind and when the Knight calls on Ron to acknowledge the Life Debt, Ron says no and transfers it to me!"

"That's what's bothering you?"

"YES! I almost got stunned from behind, but Mystery Man blocked it for me, and then Ron blocked Malfoy's killing curse. If anyone is owing anyone a life debt, it's me owing Ron and the Mystery Man."

"Come off it, Hermione. You and Ron are so steeped in Life Debts that you'll always be even. Think about it."

"You're right, Ginny," Hermione conceded. "At least about the Ron and I saving each other's lives repeatedly since we started school. But why would Ron transfer the protection of a Life Debt from the 'I'm-too-shallow-to-show-my-face' guy in the grey cloak to me?"

"Because Ron loves you and values your life more than he does his own," Ginny said simply.

"But Ginny, I—"

"He figures one more person watching your back is a little more weight off his shoulders."

"But Gin—"

"That, and he is probably banking on the possibility that he may not always be around to protect you. If he isn't, he knows that someone else is."

Hermione stared at Ginny, with her jaw slightly slack. "But GINNY—"

"But Hermione—But nothing!"

"That's preposterous, Ginny, and you know it."

"Preposterous? That Ron loves you more than life itself? I don't think so."

"But Ginny, I—"

"But nothing, Hermione," Ginny snapped, annoyed with her friend's uncanny ability to solve all the mysteries of the world, so long as they weren't just past the end of her nose. "If you can't take my word for it, then feel your locket. You know the enchantments. You and Ron loved each other as friends long before you loved each other as lovers. It's natural he would do anything to protect you."

Hermione clutched the locket around her neck, and looked pensively at her friend across the table.

"You're right, Ginny," she said, smiling. "And I'd do the same thing as well. Ron was my best friend before he was anything else. That's what friends do, and it just makes it even stronger knowing that my feelings run deeper than friendship for him."

Ginny nodded, and reached in her bag for a licorice wand. "Want one?" she offered.

"Thanks," Hermione said, grabbing it and sucking on it happily. "So what about this "Grey Knight" guy then? What do you think his deal is?"

"The whole eccentric face-hiding thing?"

"Yeah! What is with that?"

"Well, I have two guesses. Either he's hiding a rather large facial abnormality or…"

"Or… or what?" Hermione pressed.

"Or, he's afraid of openly proclaiming his allegiance with Harry and Dumbledore."

"Well that's just silly!" Hermione scoffed.

"How is that silly? Lots of Slytherins lost their lives for siding with Dumbledore in the battle last week!"

"No, not that! I meant the facial abnormality part."

"Oh really?" Ginny smirked.

"Of course," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "No one who duels that good could be ugly."

"Oh really?" Ginny asked once again, grinning madly.

"Really," Hermione insisted. "He's probably utterly gorgeous and didn't want to distract us from kicking Death Eater arse."

"So you think he's drop gorgeous, then?"

"Drop gorgeous? What on earth is that?"

"Drop gorgeous," Ginny translated, "where he's so gorgeous that he would cause you to drop whatever you might be holding at the time- wand, dinner plate, book, venomous tentactula pot, whatever."

Hermione giggled, "Yeah. Drop gorgeous, then."

Ginny grinned back, "I bet you're right."

"Oh really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And what would Harry think if he heard you talking about this Mr. Mysterious like that?"

Ginny scoffed and waved away the accusation airily. "Come on, Hermione. I may be married, but I haven't been petrified!"

The brunette giggled, "No, I suppose not. Nor are we dead."

Ginny nodded. "Right. So there's no reason we should feel badly about looking at other wizards."

"Or Muggles!" Hermione added spiritedly, grabbing another licorice wand. "I always have thought that Prince William was quite dashy."

"Me too!" Ginny sighed. "Although it's so disappointing that none of his photos move."

"Too true," Hermione agreed. "Another one to add to our Drop Gorgeous List of Blokes and Wizards."

"More like Drop Sexy List of Blokes and Wizards," Ginny grinned devilishly.

"Excellent!" Hermione cried. "Shall we enchant a list?"

"Of course!" Ginny agreed, immediately reaching into her bag for a long piece of parchment and a quill. "Just make sure to add that tricky little charm so only we can see it!"

"I think we're agreed that both Ron and Harry are on the list, even though neither of us looks at one of the pair in a certain way," Hermione said as she added them to "1 & 2" on the same line, so as to document a tie.

"Agreed. After all, Ron looks like me, so of course he's gorgeous."

Hermione giggled. "And the Grey Knight then? Shall we put him at number three for mysterious appeal?"

Ginny sucked on her quill for a moment and shook her head. "Nah, better keep him at number five. You never know, he really could be hiding a deformity."

"Fair enough," agreed Hermione, and Ginny quilled 'The Grey Knight' in at spot number five.

She and Hermione got quick to work and were still debating and adding to their list over two hours later when Ron and Harry found them.

"You two have been working hard," Ron observed.

"What on?" Harry asked. "That must be at least three feet of parchment!"

"Oh, nothing much," Ginny said innocently. "Just a, um…"

"It's for Professor Flitwick!" jumped in Hermione, smoothly. "And the Defensive Charm Research Committee. We don't really want to, um…"

"We didn't really want to expose it until we're entirely sure that it's itemized and prioritized properly," added Ginny. "Like number twelve, Hermione, I really think that one should be bumped up to at least number six, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione examined number twelve (Muggle actor Orlando Bloom) with scrutiny. "Yes, I quite agree, although I think that the original hun—hex—we had at six is really more of an eight on the, um, danger meter as far as defensive charms."

"Definitely!" Ginny agreed, and made the appropriate scratches and edits with her quill.

"Wow," Harry said, transfixed at the girls zeal for organization and specifics. "You two really are working hard."

"Better leave them to it then, Harry," said Ron, backing away from the table and towards the dormitory stairs. Giving Harry a significant look, Harry nodded and began backing away as well.

"Yeah, we don't want to mess up your concentration," Harry said quickly. "Good night, girls."

"Night boys!" they chimed, and huddled once again over their parchment.

"Mental, those two," said Ron, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Good on you, mate," Harry said, patting him on the back. "If we hadn't gotten out of there when we did I bet they would have had us down there looking up dangerous charms and giving their damage potential so they could be sure to—what was it?"

"Itemize and prioritize," Ron said with a shiver. "Thank Merlin we got out of there!"

"Yeah…" Harry agreed, and paused before entering their room.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked, eyeing his mate's rather pale face.

"Do you think the elves have gotten Dean's bed out of the Dormitory yet?" Harry asked nervously.

"You don't like looking at it either, do you?" stated Ron, sympathetically as Harry shook his head in response. "You know it's not your fault, though, right?"

"I know, it's just… it's not fair, you know?"

"It's not. But that's just why the next time I see old Mouldy-Shorts, I'm going to be sure to hit him nice and good right in the arse—for Dean."

Harry smiled. "For Dean…"

He mulled over the thought a bit, as they got ready for bed. "Hey Ron?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Thanks, Ron."

"Sure, mate. No problem. He would have said the same thing."

Back down in the Common Room, Ginny was eying Hermione nervously.

"You don't think they knew what we were up to, do you?" she asked, chewing on the end of her quill out of habit.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think so. We would have gotten an earful if they had. That, and we did charm the parchment."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "Excellent. Now, I still think that we should put Sean Connery on there. I know he's Muggle, but I still like Scottish accents."

"Oh, ergh!" cried Hermione, pretending to gag. "He's about as old as Dumbledore!"

"SO?" cried Ginny. "You like that stupid Harrison Ford git, so why can't I have Sean Connery?"

"Fine. But if you like Scottish accents so much, why won't you let me put Oliver Wood on there?"

"Because! He sold out to play Puddlemere United's RESERVE when he could have been first string for the Cannons! He just liked Puddlemere's record better! That is NOT attractive!"

"You know that's not true!" said Hermione, defensively. "He didn't like the manager for the Cannons! Oliver reused to play for him because he was a sexist bastard who wouldn't hire witches for beaters. Now THAT IS attractive!"

"You're joking!" cried Ginny, heatedly. "I had no idea! Well then, that puts Oliver at number four for me then. He's a definite Drop Sexy- why do you think the majority of the chasers dropped the quaffle when he looked at them? And the Cannons' manager better hope he never crosses my path or he'll end up on the wrong end of my wand."

Hermione grinned. "Excellent."

Ginny was looking pensive again. "Spit it out, Gin," Hermione urged.

"Well, what about Malfoy?"

"MALFOY? You've got to be kidding!"

"I know!" Ginny groaned. "But think about it. He IS rather nice looking—"

"If you take away the fact that he's a complete ARSE!"

"I know. But admit it—"

"All right," Hermione sighed, "I admit it. If he wasn't a completely bigoted snobby arse he would be attractive."

"Agreed. But we're putting him last and noting that he's an arse, so therefore will not be moved any higher."

"Perfect. Now… what about Neville?"

"NEVILLE?"

"Yes!" Hermione said. "Neville."

"NEVILLE?"

"YES! He's amazingly smart with plants, and he's lost a lot of weight."

"And he can throw a hex like nobody's business! Have you seen him with his new wand?"

"Oh, I have! His eyes are just lipid pools, black as night—"

"But with little stars of light that make me want to wish on them," Ginny blushed. "Number ten?"

Hermione blushed as well. "A definite ten."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28: Cheer Up Chess**

Harry resumed his seat in Potions with a sigh. Granted, since he and Draco had beaten the snot out of one another their partnership had become one of the best in the class, despite the small sense of awkwardness between the two students.

"Can you pass the two ounce silver ladle please, Potter?"

"Sure. Can you hand me the armadillo bile, please?"

A polite nod of thanks was exchanged and then back to work they went. This is how it was, every class period of every week. Harry didn't see why this week should be any different. Hermione was still slapping Ron's wrist whenever he jumped the hex on adding an ingredient, Pansy Parkinson was still whimpering about Blaise Zabini being missing from her pair, and Snape… well, Snape was being Snape-ish. Harry sighed again, feeling bad for Pansy but not knowing what he could do about it.

"It's kind of sad, don't you think?" muttered Draco out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah. …Wait. Huh?"

"About Parkinson. She and Zabini were…" Draco gestured absentmindedly with his hands, and Harry waved him off.

"I get it, Malfoy. I really don't need to know the slimy Slytherin details. You were saying?" He pointed to the silver dagger lying on Draco's side of the desk and the blonde handed it to him, watching curiously as Harry began slicing their Hasher Root with even, meticulous strokes.

Draco cleared his throat and continued. "Well, much to their surprise it was turning into something more serious. We could all see it from a Quidditch pitch away, but not those two. They refused to admit that they were dependent on one another."

He pointed to the glass vile of unicorn saliva, Harry shrugged non-commitedly and passed it to him. Trust Draco to turn something so crude into a somewhat eloquent statement.

"I kind of wish there was something we could do to shake Pansy- and everyone else- out of this funk."

"Me too," agreed Harry, gesturing toward the bottle of crushed Hippogriff feathers. Draco passed it to him and Harry added it to the potion while Draco stirred three times clockwise. "Any ideas, Ferret?" he asked pleasantly while neatly slicing his ginger root.

"I was thinking I could wallop the Weasel King at chess again."

Harry snorted quietly. "And how would that raise morale? Other than in your own house, that is."

Draco shrugged while he added the ginger root Harry had sliced, setting a shriveled bat's wing on the cutting board in its place. Draco stirred thoughtfully (three times clockwise, two and a half counter, once straight down the middle) as Harry grated the bat's wing. This was how it went, every period of every day. Harry did the slicing, chopping and grating while Draco did the adding of ingredients and the meticulous stirring. Harry could swear up and down that the reason the blonde Slytherin didn't want to slice jellyfigs was because he 'didn't want their tentacles to get underneath his perfectly manicured nails', and Draco could insult Harry's measuring and stirring until he was blue in the face but they both knew the reasons why they each had their own particular tasks when it came to potion making- Draco was more precise with his spoon strokes (some insane limp-wristed flick that Harry could never imitate) and Harry was better at chopping from all the years he had spent in his Aunt Petunia's kitchen (whereas Draco's House Elves would never allow him in his own).

"Well, everyone seemed to have a good time when we played before," Draco commented as he set down the silver ladle on their desk. "Why not make it so the entire school could watch?"

Harry raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "That COULD work, but not many people are interested in chess, even with the added appeal of you and Ron playing one another and the chance that you'll get tired of attacking each other only figuratively on the chessboard and decide to just beat each other senseless in the literal way."

"True," Draco agreed, "maybe there's some way we could make it more… hands on? Other than another Muggle brawl, that is."

Harry levitated the cauldron over to the sixth year's corner while Draco adjusted the flame underneath it with his wand to a simmer. Heading back to their workstation they cleaned up silently while they each thought of a way to possibly make a chess tournament the talk of the school instead of the battle's casualties. It was when they were leaving the dungeon at the end of the period that Hermione and Ron stepped up to them.

"Why not make it a live chess match?" Hermione asked. "Instead of a board and stone pieces, have REAL people be each piece. Draco and Ron can be the Kings of each respective side and they can choose people from any house to make up the rest of their team."

"It will be just like McGonagall's chess set from first year!" agreed Ron excitedly. "Only without the being knocked unconscious part."

Draco raised an elegantly arched eyebrow. "You're on, Weasley. One week to prepare. The match will take place in the Great Hall one week from tomorrow at seven p.m."

He extended his hand to shake Ron's, who agreed enthusiastically.

"I'll take it to Dumbledore," Harry offered. "I'm sure he'll love the idea!"

Dinner took place at its normal time, with the chess match being set up promptly afterward. Most people had dropped off their evening study materials beforehand and stuck around to watch the Professors conjure a life size chessboard into existence. Draco and Ron stood at their appropriate ends and began to select their teams. As each person was selected Professors Flitwick and McGonagall charmed and transfigured their clothing to the appropriate color and style for the piece they were to portray.

"I select Hermione Granger as my queen," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows at his girlfriend amidst all the catcalls coming from around the hall. Hermione stepped gracefully forward and held her breath as her clothes were transfigured. Professor McGonagall even took a silver salt and pepper holder from the Hufflepuff table and transfigured it into a tiara that she placed on Hermione's head.

"It looks lovely on you, dear," she said with an uncharacteristic smile. "This was a wonderful idea, Miss Granger. I hope it works as well as I think it will."

"Thanks, Professor," Hermione grinned as she took her place on the board next to Ron.

The selection of teams wore on, where it wound down to the last two pawns (two first years by the side of the board waving their hands and shouting 'Pick me! Pick me!') Draco completed the black side of the board with his own first year mentee, Aurelia Formosus, as his queen, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass as Knights, Theodore Nott and Melanie Pazelton (from Ravenclaw) as Bishops and Crabbe and Goyle as Castles. Ron's team stood strong with Hermione as queen, Harry and Ginny as Knights, Neville and Luna as Bishops and Max and Seamus as Castles. The pawns on each side ranged from first to seventh year and all houses were represented (a politically tasteful decision on Ron and Draco's behalves).

While still attempting to maintain the original shrewdness of real wizard's chess, in order to keep the violence to a minimum triumphant players would be able to jinx, hex, or levitate their losing opponent off the board, as long as said hex or jinx was easily rectifiable and could do no permanent or lasting damage. Harry couldn't help but smile as many of Draco's players were literally running away from Ginny, who was favoring the bat-bogey hex. He, Ron and Luna shared a laugh at Hermione as she transfigured Draco's team into all sorts of fluffy and defenseless animals. Ron's favorite was Crabbe being turned into a baboon (complete with red bum), followed by a close second of one of the rambunctious first year boys being transformed into a fluffy minute owl (looking remarkably like Pigwidgeon) as he hooted around his square. Aurelia Formosus seemed to be holding her own as she transfigured her scepter into a toucan only to have it poop on Colin Creevey's head. Many were eager to be taken by Harry in his Knight's position after they saw him have Sanguine "flash" Daphne Greengrass to the side of the board. Pansy Parkinson confounded Luna into thinking that she was a knight attacking a dragon who was keeping Neville (who had also been confounded into thinking he was a damsel in distress) locked in a tower. Pansy ended up being eliminated by Harry, who confounded her into believing she WAS the dragon that was keeping the knight Luna from her damsel-in-distress Neville.

The match wore on to the point where it was only Ron, Draco a few pawns and scattered higher pieces littering the board. Aurelia had eliminated Ginny, only to be avenged by Ron shrinking the blonde first year to a height of six inches, dressing her in a leafy-green outfit and giving her pixie wings. Hermione placed Draco in Check, but was then taken out by the black king himself, who seemed to glow with the opportunity to hex the Gryffindor Prefect and not get in trouble for it. Draco grinned as Hermione stared at him, waiting to see how he would hex her out of the game. A muted word and an elaborate wave of his wand and Hermione shrank down to a miniscule size in her square and blinked her now beady brown eyes back up at him. Ron doubled over in laughter with the rest of the hall as Harry conjured a mirror and placed in front of Hermione so she could see what she had been turned into.

"Who's the ferret NOW, Granger?" Draco smirked saucily. Hermione-the-ferret sat up on her haunches, placidly groomed herself in the mirror and readjusted her tiara before she stuck her ferret tongue out at Draco, ran up Ron's leg to nuzzle his ear and then off the board to join Ginny, who was still wearing a pink tutu and pirouetting around the Great Hall. While the Professors had cleaned up anyone that had been in need of a good counter-jinx or scourgify charm, they let all the other players remain in their jinxed states (especially since all the animals couldn't be returned to human form except by the witch or wizard that had originally transfigured them). Hermione-the-ferret seemed to be having an especially good time with a quaffle that the escape squad had brought in from their before-dinner extra help session.

One by one everyone began to get eliminated, Draco finally dressing Harry in a Slytherin green unitard to match his prima-ballerina wife and Ron transfiguring Melanie Pazelton into a chicken to match her boyfriend, Theodore Nott, who had been turned into a rooster by Luna in the second move of the game. The game drew to a close- stalemate- each team the victor. Dennis Creevey took his brother's camera and had all the players line up (in their transfigured and jinxed states) on the board in the original game position so he could take photos to distribute later.

"Nice game, Weasley," commented Draco after the photo shoot, coming forward to shake Ron's hand.

"You, too, Malfoy. I must say my girl does look a lot cuter than you as a ferret. I hope you aren't jealous."

"Nah," Draco shrugged. "I prefer human form any day."

Harry grinned as he and Ginny posed ballet style for a photo, and then joined the rest of the group crowding around Ron and Draco. It really was something to see- Ron and Draco both wearing crowns robed in white and black, shaking hands, surrounded by their friends and teammates all transfigured into animals, pretending to be animals, holding the animals that had pooped on them or fluttering around everyone's heads with their newly acquired wings, and Dennis Creevey snapping pictures in the background.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29: Conceptions of Reality**

It was Ginny's Birthday. Harry couldn't believe it- his wife was turning sixteen. For a few short months, they would be the same age. They had been married for five months now and the novelty of hearing Ginny addressed as "Mrs. Potter" still hadn't worn off. Harry didn't think it ever would. He never wanted it to.

He and Ginny had plans tonight, very special plans. As Harry walked to Dumbledore's office to pick up their prearranged portkey, he smiled to himself and blushed. He couldn't believe what they were going to do tonight. Closing the portrait of the Fat Lady softly behind him, Harry recalled the conversation he had had with Ginny a few weeks earlier when he had asked her what she wanted to do for her birthday.

"_Gin, your birthday's coming up."_

"_I know, Harry…"_

"_So, what do you want to do- just the two of us. I mean, it's important- we can make a tradition as to how we want to spend our birthdays together every year."_

_Ginny grinned, which turned rapidly into a blush._

"_Well, Harry, I… I want to…"_

_Her breath caught in her throat, and she seemed unable to voice her desires._

"_Yeah, Gin? Look- whatever you want, okay? Gold doesn't matter! We'll do it- it's your sixteenth birthday, you're my wife and I love you. I want it to be special- not like my birthdays used to be."_

_Ginny blushed, if it were possible, even harder._

"_I want to—useprofessorsnapespotion—" she said in a rush._

"_What was that?"_

"_I said I want to—um… oh, Harry! You know what I said!"_

_Now it was Harry's turn to blush._

"_I know… I just wanted to be sure. You don't have to, Ginny, you know that right?"_

_Ginny leaned into him, snuggling them deeper into their favorite chair in the deserted Common Room._

"_I know I don't, Harry. I know. I WANT to. It's important, even if it had nothing to do with the prophecy. I mean, I love you, and I talked to Hermione about it—"_

"_You WHAT!"_

"_Not like that!" Ginny cried, laughing in reassurance. "I talked to her about… well, babies and stuff. And I mean I MARRIED you, Harry, insufferable git that you may be, but I love you and I married you. And that means that I want to have insufferable little git babies, too."_

_Harry grinned lopsidedly. "Ginny—you mean it? You—you really want to have little Harries and Ginnies running around with awful tempers, untamable hair and an unrivaled attraction for trouble and dark magic?"_

_Ginny laughed, and leaned in to kiss Harry's forehead- ever so gently- on his scar. Harry smiled. It had taken him months to being used to having someone touch him there, but Ginny insisted. Every night before bed, she would kiss him on the lips and then softly kiss his scar. When he asked her why, she simply shrugged and replied 'Because. I love you. And when I say I love you, then I mean I love ALL of you- even the parts you don't like'. It was one of the reasons that Harry loved her more and more each day._

"_Yes, Harry. And I will only consent to having your children if you promise that they'll have the Potter hair and not the Weasley."_

"_Hey! My mum was a redhead!"_

"_I know. But you're not- and I want a little Harry."_

_Harry grinned. "All right. But does he have to wear glasses?"_

Harry thanked Professor Dumbledore for the Portkey and left the office. Ginny was waiting for him with their rucksacks outside the portrait hole. With a touch of their hands, they were off to Grimmauld Place to spend the night for Ginny's birthday.

"You've got the potion then?" asked Harry nervously, more for lack of anything else to say once they were settled in for the night.

Ginny nodded, flushing a lovely pink as she giggled. "Yup. Professor Snape expressed his disdain at the thought of the—what was it he said? Oh yes—the "monstrous abomination" we were bound to create together."

Harry grinned. "I love my monstrous abomination of a wife. Here, I almost forgot- I got you another gift."

Ginny smiled, and held out her hand expectantly. "The wand holder was exquisite, Harry, and I love it, you really didn't need to—well, I won't say you shouldn't have. Because you should. Although Merlin only knows how much trouble this baby will put me through once we decide to have it. I'm going to need a lot of gifts to make up for it."

It was an unspoken agreement between Harry and Ginny- they weren't going to talk about the potion and how it would only take effect if the worst were to happen. They just spoke of the baby as if they were going to wait to have it until it was most convenient. Harry and Ginny both seemed to know that should this war end in the way they wanted it to, the first thing they were going to do was have a baby together. It just seemed the right thing in their hearts to do.

Ginny tore into her gift, and grinned when she saw it. Collaboration from her husband, her best friend and her brother lay before her eyes, and she knew it was absolutely perfect. Hermione had knitted a little matching baby onesie, booties and hat. Ron had used some of his compensatory galleons from the Ministry to purchase a tiny toy broomstick, along with a miniscule Chudley Cannons baby outfit. Now that he had money, it seemed that he had taken Harry's outlook on it- 'spend it on those you love, that's all its good for.'

"Ooh," Ginny cringed. "We had better hope this baby gets your hair genes, or the poor thing is going to look just as horrid as Ron in these Cannons jumpers."

Harry laughed, and leaned forward as Ginny unwrapped the final part of the gift- a mobile, stuffed with all the other goodies in what was actually a bassinet, not the present's packaging. She carefully set the tiny magical Quidditch mobile (complete with seven players, broomsticks, and magically flying quaffle, bludgers and snitch) back in the bassinet and kissed her husband soundly.

"This baby's going to be the luckiest in the world- I can tell already."

Harry grinned, stood, and reached his hands out to her. Pulling her swiftly from her seat, he lifted her into the air and carried her to the bedroom they had first shared the night together- Eternal Sunset. Lying her down on the bed, Harry carefully removed her shoes and socks, kissing each of her toes and his heart warmed at her giggles. He softly kicked of his own boots and crawled into bed next to her. Snuggling in beside her, he lay his head on her chest and listened to her heart beating.

"It seems different this time, doesn't it?" Ginny asked softly.

"Yes, love, it does. It makes it even more special."

Ginny smiled and nodded her agreement. Harry leaned up to kiss her, but she put a finger to his lips, silently telling him to 'hold that thought' as she leaned to the bedside table and reached for the potion that had been painstakingly brewed by the most brilliant potions master Hogwarts had ever seen. Fertility potions had long been around in the wizarding world, and delayed conception potions had been discovered only more recently (in the last 500 years or so).

Ginny smiled softly as she uncorked the flask. "Bottoms up," she grinned, and downed it all in one gulp.

Harry could only stare, mesmerized at what this girl—no, this woman—this amazing, wonderful woman, was doing- and doing for him. Not even just for him, but for their world. He watched as she carefully re-corked the bottle and lay back on the pillows, smiling to herself. Harry eyed her nervously, and she answered without his having to ask.

"Not bad, actually. Tasted almost like lemonade."

Harry eyed her skeptically- he had been in the hospital too many times to not know better. Most potions tasted like a mixture of rotten cabbage and mold.

"Oh, all right. Lemonade mixed with ammonia and bat guano, but still- lemony."

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked, concernedly, ready to splinch himself in attempted apparition if Snape were to have done anything to hurt his wife- or his baby.

Ginny smiled and shook her head. "Not at all. It feels sort of tingly, and warm. Spreading right to my toes, but concentrating—" she moved Harry's hand to her abdomen "—right here. It makes me… smile, actually."

Harry grinned. It must be all right then. Carefully, as if Ginny were the most fragile thing in the universe (and she was about to be, as far as he was concerned) he kissed her cheek. He traced his fingers down her throat, past her collarbone, down her breastbone to her bellybutton and his lips followed suit. With each kiss he unbuttoned her shirt further down, kissing every part of accessible flesh. Her blouse was soon discarded, and Harry slowly unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, sliding it carefully past her hips to her thighs, kissing every inch of skin it revealed. Down it went, until her was once again kissing her toes, only this time she let out a sigh instead of a giggle.

It wasn't long before she had turned the tables, and Harry was at her mercy. Touching, teasing, kissing, caressing, —it was torture, and he was loving every minute of it. After what seemed like a pleasurable eternity, Harry was once again in control. He leaned on his elbows—he always felt like he would crush her with his weight—and kissed her softly as they brought themselves together in a way that only they could. Here was bliss. Here was happiness. Here was love. Here was… here was GINNY. Harry looked into her eyes, and it was as if he could see into her soul. The world was in his lover's eyes- everything that meant anything to him was there, swimming in lipid pools of chocolate brown. Each thought was a breath, each breath was a kiss, and each kiss was a touch, bringing them closer together, closer to fine.

Ginny…

Ginny had given up so much for him by offering to do this. Harry took a laborious breath as he pressed forward, staring into her eyes as he kissed her lips. She was willing to raise another savior, should he be unable to fulfill his duty. She was willing to give up her own idea of life to make sure that evil would perish.

Harry…

Harry looked into her eyes, and felt himself pushing deeper than he had ever felt himself go before, all the while feeling her rise up to meet him. And Ginny, his wife, was gazing at him with the utmost trust, adoration and LOVE in her eyes.

And Harry knew.

Ginny was the first person to ever love him. Granted, Harry knew people loved him- he had the rest of the Weasleys, Ron and Hermione, but Ginny was different. She was the first to ever love him unconditionally. All his faults, all his trials, all his expectations, the weight of the prophecy and the wizarding world that rested on his shoulders- she accepted them all.

Harry knew he loved her. He loved her more than anything else in the entire world—magic, his friends, even his own life. He was going to be a father, and in doing so he was going to make her a mother. His head was swimming- he had never felt so euphoric in his life. His body glistened with sweat and it mingled with Ginny's, who was panting with pleasure beneath him. He was nearing the edge and oh, how he wanted to just jump right off and FLY.

The final moment was upon him, he didn't think he could hold out much longer and he knew she was right along the edge with him. Harry looked into her eyes and realization dawned on him. He would die for this girl. And he would do it _willingly_. He would do anything, and _everything_, in his power if only he could keep her and their child safe. Understanding crashed into his brain as his body hit the final tidal wave. He and Ginny crashed into shore together, panting in rhythm, their bodies fused like they had never felt before. And Harry understood like he never had before.

In a way, Hermione had been right. Through an ultimate act of love, Harry unlocked his power. He knew what love was. And when he realized it, he understood that he had known all along.

True love was to willingly die for someone else. Like how he would willingly die to save Ginny if he needed to. How he would gladly throw himself in front of her if it meant she would live and so would their baby.

To give your life for someone else. The ultimate sacrifice. THAT was love. And Harry knew what he had to do- there could be no greater love. A night spent together to conceive their first child had brought the Boy-Who-Lived more understanding and determination than he had ever known in his entire life. Harry now held the key to open the door so he could fulfill his destiny. And he had his wife to thank for it.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30: The Space Between Black and White**

Now that Harry knew he could fulfill the prophecy he found himself returning to Albus' library as much as possible, whether by himself or in the company of his friends. It was on one of his solitary early morning journeys that he resigned himself to reading the book his dreams had told him about. Levitating himself to the ceiling of the library, Harry sighed and pulled _Debello_ from its place of rest. Letting his fingers do the walking he soon came where his instincts needed him to go. Absorbed in the vast tome, Harry (still floating near the ceiling) didn't hear Ron and Hermione enter the library after lunchtime. His two best friends turned their attention to the transfiguration section and immersed themselves in Animagus Theory for the next several hours before Ginny entered the library. Dinner had passed and the redhead was beginning to grow curious as to the whereabouts of her best friend, husband and brother. No one had seen Harry since last night in the dormitories, and Ron and Hermione had disappeared directly after a rushed lunch without a word of their destination.

Ginny moseyed around the library, heading at length to the Defense section where the group spent most of their time. Pulling her most recent conquest _("Blood Magic and its Significance Throughout the Dark Ages of History") _off the shelf she wandered around looking for a well-lit, comfortable place to expand her knowledge horizons. Curious as she was about her friend's whereabouts, if Ron and Hermione wanted alone time she wasn't about to get in their way. As for Harry… well, Harry was a different matter entirely. It was possible he was on some strange assignment with Dumbledore, in a meeting with Professor Luenebraum, or just plain hiding away from gossiping students in the Room of Requirement. She wasn't worried. If anything went wrong- she'd be able to feel it. Making her way to the Transfiguration section she smiled as she stumbled across her brother and best friend so caught up in their books that they didn't notice her approach. Leaning over Hermione, who was laying on a large conjured silk floor pillow, Ginny looked at the chapter title of the page her friend was reading.

"Animagus Training Techniques?" she asked. "Are you thinking about learning how to transform?"

Hermione and Ron both jumped about a mile high, but the three quickly turned to the center of the library after hearing a loud 'whoosh' and a startled yell.

"Harry! Ginny!" Hermione cried. "I didn't hear you come in!"

"You all right mate?" asked Ron concernedly. "You must have fallen about ten feet before you got control of your levitation spell again."

Harry scowled at him, but then shrugged, summoning _Debello_ back to where he was currently residing (about fifteen feet in the air).

"Hear me come in? I've been here all this time. When did YOU all get here?"

"I only just arrived," Ginny answered, sitting herself down on Hermione's already conjured cushion. "These two," she added, pointing, "disappeared right after lunch."

"We decided to research Animagus techniques," Hermione explained. "Ron and I were thinking about doing it. What time is it now, Ginny?"

"About seven-thirty."

"Seven-thirty?" cried Ron, groaning. "Aw, we missed dinner!"

"Don't worry about it, mate," said Harry, walking over with _Debello_ in his arms, "we can always have Dobby bring something up."

"What book is that, love?" asked Ginny, leaning over Harry's shoulder.

Harry smiled secretively and clutched the book to his chest protectively. He gave Hermione a significant look, but answered his wife's question with only two simple words.

"The Key."

After enjoying a hearty meal provided by Dobby and a team of House Elves the group returned to the dormitory to avoid any of their housemates finally realizing that they had all gone missing at different intervals of the day. Harry adjourned to his four-poster later that evening to read more of _Debello_, leaving Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the Common Room playing gobstones with Neville. A flash at his bedside roused him from his studies.

"What is it, Sanguine?" he asked, stroking the bird's weightless plumage. "A letter for me, girl?"

Sanguine chirruped and dropped the letter in Harry's waiting hands as she made to perch on his shoulder. Harry unfolded the note and was surprised at the short, directed vagueness of its contents.

_Meet me in A Place Where You Can Find Consolation at Midnight._

There was no signature, but Harry was sure he recognized the writing. Smiling to himself he glanced at his wristwatch- it was twenty after eleven. He had just enough time to grab his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map and begin a careful ascent to the highest tower in the castle. Tip-toeing softly down the staircase he saw that both Neville and Ginny had left the Common Room- he must have been too entranced by _Debello_ to have heard his friend come in- leaving only Ron and Hermione snuggling alone in a chair by the fire.

Harry smiled to himself and clutched the note under his cloak- they would never notice the portrait hole open and close. Once outside, he gazed at the map under the light of one of the wall torches, then he reread the note. Chuckling softly, Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement. The note was vague enough that should there have even been the slightest chance of it being apprehended, a sparse few people could correctly interpret its meaning.

'_Leave it to Ginny to be so secretive,' _he thought. _'She still takes time to keep me guessing when all she really needs to do is tell me where to go and I'd walk a thousand miles just to meet her there.'_

Pacing in front of the tapestry of the dancing trolls, Harry thought of the location the note had informed him of.

'_I need a place where I can find consolation, a place where I can find consolation, a place where I can find consolation…'_

The door appeared with a barely audible sucking sound as it popped into place in the wall. Removing the invisibility cloak, Harry sat down at the small white stone-hewed table in the center of the space the room had provided. It looked almost like the astronomy tower, but only in the sense that it was made from rock, had no windows, and there were pillars the held up the ceiling. Harry stood up from the table and walked to one of the makeshift windows on the far wall, his fingers lightly touching the ivy that climbed up the pillars and across the ceiling. Looking out he saw a medium-sized lake, its gentle waves softly caressing its white sand beach in the moonlight. Harry smiled at the beautiful simplicity of it all. The white stone pillars reminded him of ancient Grecian palaces and the vines of ivy made him think of the crowns of leaves the Greeks used to weave in their hair. And that reminded him of Hermione. Hermione, his best friend, and how she had looked at his wedding with her hair sporadically pinned to the back of her head and kept out of her fact by a ribbon tied at the nape of her neck.

Harry glanced at his watch- he was early. If Ginny was on time she still wouldn't be here for another ten minutes. Carefully pulling some of the ivy off one of the pillars he began to weave it together into a daisy chain with his wand, then into a circle just big enough to sit on top of his head. Smiling, he took off the makeshift crown and set it on the table, putting his wand away in an inside pocket and taking out a Galleon. Placing his hands over the circle of leaves he began to concentrate, not noticing when the door opened behind him. Ever so carefully he melted the golden Galleon into liquid gold leaf, and cast a petrification charm on the ring of ivy. With his hands he began to siphon the liquid gold onto the crown of leaves so each was coated in a thin layer. A few simple sealing and polishing charms later and Harry had finished the present for his friend.

"Nicely done, Mr. Potter," a voice from behind him complimented.

Harry turned and his wand was drawn nearly instantaneously. "What have you done with Ginny?" he asked sharply.

The Grey Knight held up his empty hands. "Nothing, Mr. Potter. I imagine your lovely wife is asleep in her bed right now, dreaming of you and the lovely crown you just made her."

"I—" Harry didn't know what to say. "The crown isn't for her," he explained, not really knowing why he was doing it, "it's for Hermione. At my and Ginny's wedding she wore her hair up and it reminded me of these Greek Mythology statues I saw in a museum when I was little. I came here tonight and saw the leaves and… well, you can figure it out from there."

The Grey Knight nodded. "A crown fit for Mr. Weasley's queen. Am I to understand that you thought Ginny had sent you the note tonight?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "Lucky for you, really. Had I known it was someone whose identity I wasn't entirely sure of you could be most certain that I wouldn't have come alone."

"All the better for me, then, I guess," the Knight conceded. "Shall we get down to business then, Mr. Potter?" the Knight asked, offering Harry one of the white stone benches by the table.

Harry nodded archly and sat down. For lack of anything else to do he sent a thought out to the room to provide some food. Harry liked to have something to do with his hands while he had important conversations- as Hermione could testify. With a small pop there lie a silver tray filled with various fruits and cheeses and two matching silver goblets filled with pomegranate juice in the center of the table. Shrugging absently to his mysterious companion, Harry reached over to grab a few grapes and some cheese.

"What? I get antsy if I don't have something to do with my hands," he offered, as way of an explanation.

"I understand," the Knight said pleasantly. "But now, to business. It has come to my attention that He-Who-Must-"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected absently as he reached for his goblet of juice.

The Knight sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. All right- it has come to my attention that Voldemort is planning to attack Hogwarts once again."

Harry paused with a piece of pineapple halfway to his mouth. "Yes, I was sure that he would. Just before his cowled lackeys disappeared I heard his snaky little voice telling me that he would 'be back'." Harry paused. "I take it you know a little more about _when_ he's planning on annoying us with his presence again?"

The Knight nodded. "He will bring his full force of Death Eaters just before the sun sets on the third day."

"What?"

"Before the sun sets on—"

"I HEARD that part. How does it help us, though?"

"Think about it, Mr. Potter. If he plans on bringing his forces in on the third day it means that we will have two days of 'warning shots' before the final blow. If there is one thing I've learned about Voldemort it's that he seems to do things methodically."

"How do you mean?"

"What day is your birthday, Mr. Potter?"

"The 31st of July," Harry answered, without thinking.

"And what day did Voldemort kill your parents?"

"Halloween. But what has this got to do with—"

The Knight raised one pale hand, stemming Harry's flow of thought. "And what day, Mr. Potter, did Lord Voldemort LAST attack the castle?"

"March… ooh."

"Exactly. March 31st. I conclude that Voldemort will return on the 31st of May, seeing as school is no longer in session by the 31st of June."

"I guess that IS helpful. But what about the first two days? How is he going to deliver these warning shots?"

The Knight shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Mr. Potter. I do not pretend to flatter myself in false pretense that I understand how Lord Voldemort thinks."

Harry nodded and gazed inquiringly at the cloaked and hooded man sitting across from him. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you helping us—helping ME?"

The Knight sighed and stood up from the table. He walked to the window and gazed outside at the moonlit lake.

"Did you ever notice, Mr. Potter, that nothing in this world lasts forever? That nothing here is consistent?"

Harry pondered that for a moment, then stood and walked to join the Knight at the window. "I suppose I never have thought about that. Why?"

"I have noticed, Mr. Potter, I've noticed for quite some time now. You see, although nothing IN the world is consistent, and nothing IN the world lasts forever, the world itself DOES. Do you understand?"

"Not entirely," Harry replied honestly, "but please continue."

"Nothing lasts forever, Mr. Potter, except for three things that I can think of."

"And they are?"

"Hell, for one. Hell and the torture that comes along with its eternal damnation."

"And what of the other two?" Harry asked.

"The earth, for one. Even after we die it will still go on being there, housing the rest of humanity. …The third, and last, being sky. I suppose you could go as far as to call the sky 'Heaven', if such a place even exists, but still… Long after our bodies have returned to dust in the ground the sky will still look down upon the earth, even if we're not there to look up back at it."

"I see," Harry said quietly.

"So you do," the Knight muttered. "Nothing lasts forever but Hell, Earth, and Sky. Well, Mr. Potter, I've had my share of Hell, and the Earth doesn't seem to be the place for me. I think it's time to find my piece of Sky."

"I think I understand," Harry said. "You're tired of being tortured in the life that you live, and no one on earth seems to be able to accept you, so you think that by helping to rid the world of one of Hell's creatures that you might be able to find peace, a place where you belong—to find your own sky."

"In a way, yes."

"But you've forgotten something, haven't you?" Harry prodded.

"I don't believe so, no."

"You said that only three things last forever- Hell, Earth, and Heaven- right?"

"If you believe in a place called Heaven, yes."

"Oh, but I do," Harry said in earnest. "How could there be something as horrible as Hell and nothing to counter-balance it? I guess you could say that I learned that from Voldemort. He's absolutely evil, and so someone had to be good enough to counteract that evil. Unfortunately it was me who got stuck with that destiny."

"To be honest, Mr. Potter, I don't think I could personally trust anyone other than you with that particular destiny."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Thank you. I appreciate that. I still disagree with you though- I think there's a fourth thing that outlasts time."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Love," he replied simply.

The Knight raised his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But I WOULD look that one over. The closest thing to love anyone has ever shown me is hatred—" the Knight's hand went unconsciously to his left cheek, "there is but a thin line between them, after all. But I having never been loved, I've hardened myself to learn to live without it. Maybe that's why I've decided to help you. You lived without love for quite some time as I understand it, and yet you and Ginny have one of the most powerful loves on record."

"That may be true," Harry conceded, "but in order to BE loved you must first LOVE. I had to learn that the hard way. Ginny loved me for a long time, but I refused to see it. I had to open myself up to her and learn to let myself love her- and others as well- before I could begin to understand that the benefits of love outweigh the potential costs."

The Knight inclined his head. "I suppose you may be right. It's hard, though. I've steeled myself against feelings for so long that I wonder if I would even know what they were if they kit me alongside an Avada Kedavra."

"Well, I trust you, and you trust me," Harry offered. "That has to be a start."

Harry could almost feel the Knight smile underneath his hood.

"Once again, you are right," the Knight said. "I want to feel what normal people do. I want to understand how my heart evolved into a piece of rock beating inside my chest."

"Maybe helping to get rid of Voldemort will help you with that," Harry said, "and I need all the help I can get."

"And I will be there to give it," the Knight said firmly. "You have my word on that."

Harry nodded; and just like that the conversation was over, the mysterious Grey Knight turned and walked away.

"Goodbye, Mr. Potter, I am sure we will meet again."

Harry raised his head in agreement. "Goodbye, …_Mr. Malfoy_."

Slowly, the knight turned around and lowered his hood, revealing the pale face and grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"Goodnight, Harry," he said softly as he reached for the door handle.

With a small nod from each of them and a swish of their cloaks as they parted their separate ways, the night's events came to an end.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31: The Third Altercation**

May 31st was coming too soon. The school had planned and drilled in every spare second available and on the evening of the 30th, Harry still felt that it wasn't enough.

"How are those stunners coming along, Hermione?" he asked.

"Pretty good, Harry. Not many people can cast them, but those that can- wow. You should see it. Voldemort himself could try to use an ennervate counter-jinx and it wouldn't work."

"Excellent, Hermy. I knew I could count on you."

"I only wish we knew what these supposed 'warning shots' were going to be."

Harry shrugged and looked back to the new escape plans Ron had drawn up. He had no idea and even long late hours discussing battle tactics with Professor Luenebraum in his office had formulated nothing more than educated guesses.

Ginny looked up from straightening Hermione's hair with her wand. "Maybe that's our problem. Mouldy-Shorts has never offered warning shots before, so we really have no idea what to expect."

"That's true," Hermione agreed, examining her new straight look with a pleased smile. "Even I can't expect Voldemort to sacrifice ANY of his men for a warning shot- he knows he'll need them all. I have to give him at LEAST that much credit."

"Good point, Hermione," Ron agreed. "So maybe he's not going to sacrifice his men, then."

"What are you getting at, Ron?" asked Ginny. "How can he deliver a warning shot with no men here to send it out?"

Ron stood up from the table where he had spread his plans and began to pace. "That's what I mean- maybe he's not going to sacrifice his OWN men. Maybe he's going to sacrifice ours."

"And how would he do that?" Harry asked. At this point he was prepared to take any suggestion, no matter how ludicrous.

"I don't know, really," Ron admitted. "I mean, we have to admit Voldemort's really powerful. He forced you to see that fake vision of him holding Sirius hostage, so who's to say that he won't do it again?"

"True as that may be, Ron," Hermione began, "Harry's occlumency shields are nearly impenetrable now."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "thanks to Dumbledore, any way."

But Ginny was catching on to Ron's train of thought. "Right! But who's to say that he won't use the same tactic on someone OTHER than Harry?"

"We're forgetting a key point here, though!" Hermione cried, exasperatedly. "Harry and Voldemort have a connection! That's how he got through in the first place!"

"Yeah, but Harry's a really powerful wizard!" Ron disagreed.

"Ron, really—" Harry blushed embarrassedly, "I'm not that powerful, honestly."

"Oh, sod off it, Harry. You know you are, so stop being modest," Ron persisted. "Voldemort is ALSO really powerful. I don't think he'd NEED a connection to break into a normal wizard's mind."

Ginny dropped the lock of her friend's hair she had been working on. "Bloody hell, Ron. You're ruddy brilliant sometimes, do you know that?"

Ron had the grace to look humble. "Thanks, Gin. But do you really think I'm right?"

"I think you are," offered Harry. "We need to talk to Dumbledore, right away."

"It's way past curfew, Harry," Hermione said immediately. "Even with the back library passage and your invisibility cloak, there's no way."

"Simple," supplied Ginny. "We can have Sanguine flash him a note to come down here. I think he might find it refreshing to get out of his office for once."

Fifteen minutes later, Albus Dumbledore stepped through the portrait hole, much to the surprise of those still in the Common Room other than Harry and his friends. They quickly gathered up their things and departed.

"Goodness," Albus commented dryly. "You would think that they thought I was here to punish them for not being in bed yet. Even so, this gives us more freedom to speak plainly. What is it Mr. Weasley?"

"Me?" squeaked Ron.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, you. Mr. Potter sent me a note informing me that you might have some insight as to what Lord Voldemort may be up to."

Quickly Ron explained his theory, with Hermione filling in the gaps where he stuttered from being put on the spot.

"What do you think, Professor?" Ginny asked.

Dumbledore walked to the window and stared at the grounds while formulating his thoughts on the matter. After a few minutes he straightened and pressed his hands and face against the glass.

"Oh, dear," he muttered.

"What is it, sir?" asked Hermione fearfully.

"I am afraid we may be too late."

The four students rushed to the window and pressed their faces against the glass, two on either side of the headmaster.

Professor Luenebraum was at the front gate with Madam Hooch and they were exiting the grounds.

"What are we going to do, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"At this point, Miss Granger," Albus replied with a sigh, "I suppose all we can do is wait."

"You're just going to stand there?" Ginny outraged. "Professor Dumbledore, we HAVE to do something!"

"I understand, Mrs. Potter, but at this point in time the only thing I can do is call a staff meeting. If you will excuse me, please, I'll get right on it."

Dumbledore swept from the room, his shoulders slumping as the portrait hole closed behind him. Those remaining in the Common Room turned their attention immediately to Harry.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" Ginny asked, her eyes filling with tears.

"The only thing we can do, really. We stay calm. And in the meantime, we get out the old D.A. coins and schedule an emergency meeting. With all the staff holed up in Dumbledore's office, no one will be able to punish us for breaking curfew. Please excuse me."

"Where are you going, mate?" asked Ron.

"I'm going to activate my Galleon. Then I'm going to send Sanguine to trustworthy members from each house to have them rouse everyone they can."

"What about the Grey Knight? Should we contact him, too?"

Harry paused on his way up the stairs. "Yes. I'll send a note along to him, too. But I'll use Pigwidgeon, if you don't mind. Hedwig and Sanguine are too conspicuous and I think we at least owe him the civility of trying to keep his identity a secret."

"No problem, mate. Shall we start heading to the Room of Requirement?"

"I guess so. Tell Hermione and Ginny to bring every spell and defensive charm they've developed, and bring along all your escape plans. We'll want to cover everything we possibly can."

The morning of the 31st dawned with the sun peeking out from behind grey clouds and sparkling on the dew-ridden grass. The members of Dumbledore's Army met in the Entrance Hall with their hair awry from tossing and turning all night, their complexions washed out and their eyes beadily alert. They ate breakfast in shifts in the Great Hall, much to the curiosity of the staff, but declined to comment on their reasoning. Seven thirty rolled around and a note slipped itself through the cracks under the bolted front door. Neville Longbottom, appointed shift leader of the watching army, picked up the note and carried it immediately into the great hall to its addressee- one, Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards- as if there could have been another Albus Dumbledore that could have been mistaken for the intended recipient.

Albus sighed, put down his spoon and pushed his eggcup to the side. He opened the letter, scanned it briefly, nodded to Harry, and the two of them swept from the Hall into the side chamber that had once housed the ceremony for the weighing of the Triwizard Champions' wands.

"Young Mr. Weasley was right, Harry," Albus conceded. "Voldemort has hoodwinked Madam Hooch and Professor Luenebraum into believing that he has captured their parents. Madam Hooch and Professor Luenebraum were married over the Christmas Holidays, much like yourself and Miss Weasley, thus why they left together. They are now tied to stakes just beyond the front gates and Voldemort awaits my response to his demands."

Harry swallowed thickly. "What are his demands?"

"That I surrender you and your wife to him by noon tomorrow."

"And if you don't?"

"Then he will kill them."

"One today and one tomorrow, isn't it, Albus?" Harry asked, the color draining from his face.

"I'm afraid so."

"What are we going to do?"

"We go to the gates. We don't leave, but we go to speak with Voldemort and his followers. If we have any luck we will somehow be able to make contact with Bertram and Helen. They were members of the Order, so they know about the prophecy and they know how important you and Ginny are to the fight against Voldemort."

"So you're saying that we leave it up to them? That if they tell us to let them die we'll do it? Albus, how could you?"

"It's not something I want to do, Harry, please understand this. All of my staff and the entire Order know that their very lives may be at stake for siding with me.

"Put yourself in their shoes, Mr. Potter. If you and young Ginevra had been ransomed, but your captor would give you up for a trade of Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, would you do it?"

"Never!" Harry cried. "I would rather die than have that happen to Ron and Hermione!"

"You understand, then, that Bertram and Helen would feel the same way?"

"I—" Harry was stuck, but he had no choice. "I understand, sir. I understand it, but I will never accept it."

Albus nodded and smiled sadly. "Yes, Harry. Understanding and acceptance are two very different things, and all I can ask of you at this time is understanding. I would never dream of asking for your acceptance."

They returned to the Great Hall and walked purposefully towards the exit. They were halfway across the grounds before they realized that almost the entire school was trailing along behind them. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were running ahead to catch up.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ginny asked, breathless.

Albus wordlessly handed her the ransom note Voldemort had delivered, and her face drained of color before brightening to match her hair as her tiny frame filled with rage.

"Prophecy or not," she spat, "I'll kill him myself."

They arrived at the gates while the staff half-heartedly attempted to get the students to return to the castle. An unnamable Death Eater stepped toward the gate to address them.

"So, Dumbledore, have you decide to comply with our Lord's most reasonable offer?"

"Don't do it, Albus!" Madam Hooch screamed.

"Shut up, wench!" another Death Eater snapped.

He stepped toward her stake and struck her hard across the face. Professor Luenebraum struggled in his bindings, screaming hopeless curses at the man who had clouted his wife. Harry could see their snapped wands lying useless at their feet.

"I thought we told you to keep your mouth shut?" the Death Eater said to Madam Hooch.

Madam Hooch's only reply was to spit blood in his face. The Death Eater, ("It's Crabbe!" Hermione hissed,) wiped his chin with his robes and turned to the man at the gates.

"This bitch goes first," he demanded.

"Yes, yes, whatever," the leader said indifferently with a wave of his hand. "Well, Dumbledore, what is your decision?"

Harry felt a flash inside his head and he saw Dumbledore straighten- he must have seen it, too. Soon he heard Bertram's voice, speaking as though he was standing right between them.

"_Hold your ground, Albus. We knew what could happen when we joined you, and we don't regret that decision. Don't do anything rash on our account. Helen and I have been honored that you called us friends. We gladly die in your service._

"_Harry… hold on. Remember everything we talked about. This is your fight, no one else's. Get him for us, Harry. I believe in you."_

Harry had tears running down his face, but he nodded all the same. The lead Death Eater at the gate seemed to have interpreted their silence as the inability to make a decision.

"I'll make you an offer, Dumbledore," he said arrogantly. "We'll give you twenty four hours to make your decision. Tomorrow. Twelve O'clock. You return here and make your decision. Either you hand over Potter and Ginevra, and your friends go free, or you don't, and they die.

"Twenty four hours, old man. We'll be back."

There was a loud pop and the leader disappeared, leaving his subordinates to side-apparate away with the hostages as they screamed for Harry and Albus not to fall for the trick.

One could say that for the next twenty-four hours the castle barely slept, but it would be an inaccurate truth. If one takes into account that most of its inhabitants were walking around in a zombie-like stupor, it could be considered that they slept the next day away. Just before noon on June first, the members of the school that hadn't been evacuated made their way to the front gates where they found Lord Voldemort himself waiting for them.

"How kind of you to join us, Albus," Voldemort hissed with a bow. "And young Harry, too, my heart just quivers with pleasure!"

"You don't have a heart, Tom," Ginny said lowly, her wand raised.

Voldemort's hand gave what seemed to be an almost involuntary twitch towards his wand, but he let it lie.

"Ah, I see the young Mrs. Potter has decided to grace us with her presence as well. How kind of you."

"Enough, Tom," Dumbledore sighed. "You wanted to speak with us, so we are here. Say your piece and leave."

"Yes, yes, but you already know why I'm here, Dumbledore. I will return your Dark Arts Professor and your Flying Instructor to you if you hand over Potter and his wife."

"And you expect me believe that you'll honor this agreement, yes?" Dumbledore asked.

"You have my word, Headmaster."

"Then you will understand when I leave the decision to Professor Luenebraum and his wife. Harry and Ginny have expressed it to be their wishes that if Bertram and Helen wish to be freed they will willingly take their places."

Harry saw Voldemort flinch slightly. "Well, then, what say you?" he asked his prisoners. "Do you wish to be freed? Luenebraum, will you have Harry take your place?"

"No," Bertram said, firmly. "There will be no trade. As much as it may seem otherwise, in this case one life does not equal another. I pledge my life to Harry, and if this is the way it is to be claimed then so be it."

"I see," Voldemort nodded, his eyes narrowing to almost imperceptible slits. "And you, Hooch—"

"My name is Luenebraum, now, Voldemort."

"Of course," Voldemort bowed gracefully. "How thoughtless of me. Madam Luenebraum, what of your decision? Will you have Mrs. Potter take your place?"

"Never," Madam Luenebraum replied crisply. "I won't allow you to kill Ginny, even if only for the reason that she is the most brilliant female Quidditch player I've ever seen. It would be a shame to deny her the chance to play professionally where I never could."

Ginny choked back a sob at her tutor's compliment and Voldemort turned his gaze upon her briefly before turning back to the flying instructor.

"Never, Madam? And what if I gave you my express word that Mrs. Potter would not be harmed, and would be allowed to play Quidditch if her heart so desired it? That, in fact, Mrs. Potter would be allowed to do whatever she wished, so long as she remained in my care?"

Ginny bit her lip and looked pleadingly to Harry and then through the gate to Madam Luenebraum. Harry heart dropped to his stomach, its beat seeming to stop in its tracks as he waited. He had no say over Ginny's decision. As much as he loved her, if she willingly went into Voldemort's arms he couldn't stop her. Granted, he would fight Voldemort there, on the spot to the death, to get her back, but Ginny's life was Ginny's life. He had no ownership of her.

Madam Luenebraum raised her chin, resting her head on the stake she was bound to, and looked to the sky. In a minute that seemed to go on forever, she made her decision and lowered her head to look in Ginny's eyes.

"If there is one thing I have learned through my faithful service to Albus, and, consequentially, to Harry- it is never to make deals with murderers. My answer is the same, Voldemort- NEVER."

Voldemort kept his expression neutral as he walked to where Harry was standing behind the gate. "I hope you're happy, Mr. Potter," he said softly, and his next words seemed to be for Harry's ears alone. "Two more lives will be put on your conscience today."

With a sharp motion he flicked his wand upwards, invoking the final incantations. In two flashes of violent green light, Bertram Luenebraum and his new wife, Helen, were no more.

Voldemort turned back to Harry, his expression hard. "You had your chance, Potter."

"You're wrong," Harry replied, coldly, his eyes stinging with unwelcome tears. "This isn't over, Tom. You won't get away with this."

The air was filled with an evil sound- the sound of Voldemort's cruel laughter. "Oh, that was good, Mr. Potter, very good. But you see, I find a certain flaw in your logic."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"I just did get away with it."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32: The Fourth Altercation**

The third day dawned and Harry met its first light with bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept since the unidentified new Death Eater had delivered the ransom note some 48 hours previous, and Voldemort would return in force when the sun set this evening. Strategically, it was sound. Harry made a mental note to thank the Grey Knight for the tip off when this was all over. After having seen Madam and Professor Luenebraum murdered in cold blood no one could have expected another attack so soon.

Harry's thoughts turned bitter as the sun peeked its grey rays over the mountains surrounding the grounds. No more would he enjoy spiced tea native to Bertram's pacific island in front of the fire in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. No more would Madam Luenebraum officiate their Quidditch matches. Ron would take over the Escape Team once the younger students returned from evacuation with Ginny as his second in command, and a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor would undoubtedly be selected for the next year, just like it had been every year before.

Hermione had doubled her efforts in reinforcing defensive spells with Cho Chang, and for once it wasn't Cho's eyes that were in constant threat of brimming over with tears. Neville had spent hours in the greenhouses with the school nurse and Professor Sprout, and some of their random concoctions were proving to be largely beneficial.

Harry sat on his favorite chair in the Common Room; absently stroking Tonic as Sanguine and Hedwig trilled and hooted in what they must have thought was a comforting manner. Their attempts at consoling their master fell on deaf ears. To Harry, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. Every day was another life on his conscience, just like Voldemort had said. In the early morning hours after the tower had emptied Harry had attempted to compose a list of everyone he knew of who had lost their lives by Voldemort's hand, starting with his parents and the Longbottoms. Granted, Neville's parents were still technically alive, but Harry thought that if there were any fate worse than death, it would certainly be what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom.

He had sat for hours adding names, eventually losing count as his brain became more befuddled from lack of sleep and food. When he had added every name he could think of, Muggle and Wizard alike, he took the list over to the dying embers of the fire and tossed it in the still white-hot ashes. Harry's eyes brimmed once again with tears, but he refused to let them fall. With a savage poke of the iron rod next to the fireplace Harry watched as his several sheets of parchment began to smoke and then catch aflame. Some names stood out to him as the paper burned and his face reddened with anger. Enough was enough. No more would people die at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Not while he, Harry James Potter, was alive to stop it.

As the last ashes from his list of the dead floated up the chimney to the heavens, Harry touched his right index finger to his temple. A long, heavy strand of silver thought fell into his cupped palm as he pulled his hand away. With a small sigh, he deposited the memory into his Pensieve that had sat on the corner table ever since the ransom note had arrived. Everyone in Gryffindor tower knew what the Pensieve was and so they left it alone. No one dreamed of being able to understand what went on inside the mind of Harry Potter, and ever since they had seen his memories of the incidents after the Tri-Wizard tournament and in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, most people feared that should they attempt to view the Pensieve's contents that they would go mad with terror. Their fears were not unfounded, but they were still wrong.

The Pensieve of Harry Potter contained not only the memories of his time at Hogwarts and confrontations with Voldemort, but also his childhood with the Dursleys and his parents' deaths, all of which had been reviewed extensively. Yes, the occupants of Gryffindor Tower were quite right to expect something along the lines of madness should they attempt to dive into the dark oblivion of Harry Potter's mind, but it would not be terror that would lead them to insanity. It would instead, be grief. To learn and see at first hand what their hero had endured would have driven anyone but those with a completely sound, but open, mind mad with misery. It was thus that Harry had made one of his wisest decisions in trusting his best friend to tell his story, for in truth, no one else could have been mentally capable.

Harry turned away from the stone basin and sat himself in his favorite chair where Tonic jumped in his lap and Hedwig and Sanguine attempted to sing away some of his sorrow. It was there that Neville found him.

"All right, Harry?" he asked softly.

"Not really, Neville," Harry replied honestly. He had a harder time concealing his true thoughts from Neville than he did with Ron or Hermione, mostly, he believed, because it could have possibly been Neville that had ended up with his fate.

"Harry," Neville began hesitatingly, "you know that—"

"Don't," Harry whispered. "Please, Neville, don't. Not you, too."

"Don't what, Harry?"

"Please don't say that it's not my fault."

"Oh. I wasn't going to."

Harry turned and faced the boy with whom he had shared a room for the past six years, and, for the first time, he seemed to really see him.

"You weren't?" he breathed, hoping he had heard what he thought he had.

"No. I was going to say that 'you know it's going to take time to sort through all this'. People tell you it isn't your fault, and yes, to some degree they're right. But that doesn't change the way you FEEL. You'll get through it, sure, but it will take time. Years, even. I know it took me years to get over what happened to my Mum and Dad. But I still got through it. I know you will, too.

"If you ever feel, though, that you're not going to make it, you know you've got Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione. They'll be there for you."

Harry stared at him. "What about you, Neville?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. What about you? Will you be there?"

"Of course, Harry. Did you really need to ask?"

Harry smiled slightly. "No. I suppose I didn't."

Neville nodded and turned to head towards the portrait hole to go to breakfast.

"Hey Neville?"

"Don't mention it, Harry. That's what I'm here for. I know you still feel like rubbish right now, but knowing that you have friends, even in the back of your cluttered mind, should help."

Harry nodded, turned back to his Pensieve, and brooded once more. Only this time, it was a fraction less deep. All he needed to do was get through today. Get through today without any major incidences and the next time would be the end. The next time, he promised himself, he would face Voldemort on his own terms.

Sunset approached. Harry donned his cloak and made toward the portrait hole. Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Ginny emerged from the shadows to accompany him to the Great Hall, but they never really registered in his vision until he heard Dumbledore acknowledge their presence in front of the grand staircase. He turned and his eyes locked with his bride's. Placing a soft hand on her abdomen Harry leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"There's nothing I can say to make you leave with the others, is there?"

Ginny mutely shook her head, and Harry nodded in acquiescence.

"Just promise me that you'll be careful, love. The hope of the world will rest on your and the baby's safety if I fail."

"I promise, Harry. I love you. We'll get through this, I know we will."

He was thankful for her optimism, but he couldn't bring himself to get his hopes up.

"I love you, too, Ginny."

"Are you ready, Harry?" Albus asked, his wand at the ready to issue the battle command.

"Born ready, Albus."

A brief twinkle illuminated the elderly headmaster's eyes and he smiled. "That's my boy," he whispered.

Harry inclined his head politely and moved toward the front gate with the rest of the staff and the elite members of Dumbledore's Army. As one they marched onto the grounds before they flanked off toward their predetermined battle stations: Ron and Ginny to the Quidditch Pitch to mount their brooms for the air assault, Hermione and her group divided amongst the barricades to lead in defense hexes, Neville and his healing squad also divided, each with their knapsack of potion vials to minimize the potential spell damage, and lastly, Harry, Dumbledore, and the staff to the front of the battlefield, ready to take the full brunt of the charge before they fell back to the barricades.

Everyone was in his or her place. Harry turned and saw Seamus Finnigan leading his platoon on top of the astronomy observation deck, a West Ham bandanna tied firmly on his head in salute to his fallen comrade. Looking back to the gates he could see the entirety of Voldemort's supporters throwing spells dozens in succession to bring down the wards. Voldemort was nowhere in sight, presumably sitting comfortably in his hideout letting his minions do all the hard work for him. Hogwarts was ready for them. All they had to wait for now was the wards to fall.

But something wasn't right. Harry could feel it in his scar, and the hairs along the back of his neck joined in, prickling uncomfortably.

'_Albus,' _he said softly, reaching out with his mind. _'Something isn't right.'_

'_What do you mean, Harry?'_

'_I'm not sure. It just doesn't feel right. If Voldemort's nowhere to be found, why is my scar twitching?'_

On the Quidditch Pitch, Ginny turned concernedly to her brother. "Ron, something's wrong."

"What do you mean, Gin?"

"Look at Harry- the way he's standing. See how his shoulders are all tensed up?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"Something is not going according to plan. Harry can feel it, and I can tell by his body language."

"How can the plan be off, Gin?" Ron asked confusedly. "We don't HAVE a plan. The Death Shitters break through the wards, we attack them, and then they run away back to Voldemort with their wands between their legs. That's not a plan, it's just how things work."

But Ginny was adamant. "I think we should get closer. Please, Ron."

"All right, Gin. MOVE OUT!"

The Air Brigade began a slow flight toward the front of the grounds, Ginny apprehensively watching Harry the entire time. A sudden charge of magical energy pulsed through the area and a lone figure appeared before the front rank of staff and time seemed to stand still as Ron and Ginny registered what had just happened.

"That was a PORTKEY!" Ron gasped. "You could tell by the energy it gave off!"

"That's VOLDEMORT, Ron! He used a Portkey to get inside the grounds! The Death Eaters at the gate are just for SHOW! They're sending all sorts of sparks at the gate to make it look like they're working to bring down the wards when all they're really doing is creating a diversion!"

Ron swore- at length. Normally, Ginny would have been quite impressed at the extensiveness of her youngest brother's vocabulary, but now was neither the time nor the place. Ron and Ginny turned to one another and a single thought passed through their minds, their eyes widening as the atrocity registered: Voldemort had someone from high inside the Ministry working for him. There was no other way he could have figured out how to set up a Portkey that would take him inside the Hogwarts grounds.

At the gate, Harry was nearly knocked off his feet by the force of the Portkey's activation. His wand flew into his hand and he had positioned himself in battle stance before the Portkey's passenger had even reached the ground. Several of the staff shot stunners at the cloaked wizard before he had even landed, but they either missed or bounced off an already erected shield.

The cloaked figure turned, but Harry already knew whom it was. Voldemort had used a Portkey to bypass the Anti-Apparition wards on the grounds. A triumphant grin lit up Lord Voldemort's face as he raised his wand and aimed it directly at Harry's heart.

"AVADE KEDAVRA!" he screamed, and the telltale green light shot forth like a rocket.

Harry opened his mouth to erect a barrier, but to no avail. A firm hand flattened him to the ground and Harry looked up to see his world collapse before his very eyes. Albus Dumbledore had thrown his arm in front of Harry to push him out of the way, putting himself in front of Voldemort's curse.

A cry of outrage choked in Harry's throat as he head Professor McGonagall scream in terror as her life mate fell. A shining green nimbus enveloped Albus' body as he fell backwards, landing in Harry's lap, his empty blue eyes staring back into Harry's green ones, not a twinkle left to be found. Harry's gaze hardened as he looked to where Voldemort was standing, noticing that there was a look of shock on his nemesis' face.

And then Voldemort laughed.

The cold, cruel sound filled the grounds and echoed long after Lord Voldemort had activated his other Portkey and disappeared, his minions right behind him, leaving the entire body of Hogwarts staring blankly at Harry Potter as he held their headmaster in his arms. Minerva McGonagall threw herself onto Albus' fallen body, her usual stern demeanor completely forgotten as she sobbed for the loss of her best friend and life long companion.

The entire school had run from their positions to stand around the body of the most powerful wizard alive, as if waiting for him to jump up spryly from the ground with a twinkle in his eye declaring a belated April fool's. It was a selfish hope. The occupants of Hogwarts grieved, and not a dry pair of eyes was to be found among them… save one.

"Harry," Ginny sobbed, "oh, my Harry!"

But he pushed her, and everyone else, away. He couldn't, he WOULDN'T cry. He stared back at everyone as they watched, as if waiting for his orders on how they should react. And suddenly he couldn't take it any more. Harry turned away from his mentor's lifeless body and the tears that had threatened to come for the past year broke free and trailed down his scorched cheeks.

"I can't," he said in a choked whisper. "I just can't do this any more."

"Harry," Ginny began worriedly, "what are you talking about?"

"He died. Albus is dead. And it's all my fault. Just like everyone else that died- it's all my fault."

"Harry," Hermione gasped, "you know that's not true!"

"It IS true!" Harry screamed, harshly shoving away Hermione's attempt to embrace him. "Everyone I care about ends up dead! How many more, 'Mione? Huh? How many more have to die because I'm not strong enough to get rid of Voldemort for good?"

Hermione was cradling her hands to her chest as she sobbed. "I don't know, Harry! How am I supposed to know?"

"Who's next?" Harry demanded, his voice echoing shrilly around the silent battlefield. "You, Hermione? Ginny? Maybe you, Ron? Neville? Luna? I CAN'T DO THIS ANY MORE!"

"Harry," Ginny began gently, "we never said that—"

"I KNOW! All you've ever done was love me, and is that fair? Is it fair that you should have to be hunted just because you were my friends?"

"Harry, you gave us a choice- to be with you, or to leave. We chose YOU."

"If I could go back and do it over again," Hermione said firmly, "I'd still pick you, Harry. Every time."

"Well you SHOULDN'T HAVE!"

Every tear streaked face in the crowd was locked on Harry. Their hero was crumbling, and if he faltered, where was there hope? They had depended on his cool demeanor all these years- they had known no other option. With Dumbledore gone, who was left? The headmaster had been like a father to Harry, everyone knew that. As much as they knew the world rested on Harry's slender shoulders, they couldn't blame him for wanted to give up. Each person knew that had they been in his position, they would have run from their fate long before Harry had.

"Just GO!" he cried, the tears streaming down his face. "Leave me! You'd be better off if you all left the Wizarding World and pretended that you never heard the name Harry Potter.

"You never should have lied about the troll to McGonagall in first year, Hermione! Then you would have never been my friend.

"Ginny, you never should have married me! If you hadn't, then you would never have to worry about raising a baby without a father.

"Ron, you should have NEVER sat with me that day on the Hogwarts Express! Then none of this would have happened and you'd all be safe and—"

WHAM.

"Now you're going TOO far, mate!" Ron had finally had enough. He stooped down to help Harry back up, then stood back up, fuming, waiting for his best friend's response as the crowd watched in awe.

"You punched me," Harry said stupidly.

"You're damn right I did. And if you don't straighten up your act I'll do it again."

"Wha—what?"

"You heard me. That's enough of this noble crap, mate. I've been putting up with it for the last six years and I won't do it any more. You can say all you want that you wish we weren't involved, but mate, you know that if we weren't you would have never made it this far."

Hermione and Ginny stared at the redhead with slack jaws. He seemed to be voicing all of which they wanted to say but didn't have the courage.

"You think you're in this by yourself, but you're NOT. Who's to say that your life is the only one ruled by the stars? How do you know that the three of us weren't SPECIFICALLY put on this Earth to be by your side when the pixies hit the chandelier?

"You DO have the weight of the world on your shoulders, mate, no one in their right mind would deny you that, but no one in their right mind would DENY you the help that you deserve.

"Now. Are you going to stop being noble and taking all the blame yourself, or do I have to punch some more sense into that thick skull of yours?"

Harry sniffed thickly, blood still running from his nose. "No, Ron, you don't need to punch me again. I think I can keep my 'noble act' under control."

"Good," Ron said stoutly. "Now come over here and hug us all nicely before Ginny and Hermione knock you flat with their gorilla hugs."

Harry laughed and wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve. He smiled as he walked over to hug and apologize to Ginny and Hermione, and then turned to his best friend.

"Thanks, Ron. I needed that, and I'm glad you were here to give it to me."

"What are brothers for?" Ron grinned, and pulled Harry in for a hug.

The crowd breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to Ron Weasley, their hopes for their hero were safe for one more day. Albus Dumbledore may have been gone, but with a world-class strategist like the youngest Weasley brother on their side, Hogwarts felt that it couldn't lose.

Harry turned to face the fallen body of his mentor once more, and with a graceful hand he levitated Albus Dumbledore ahead of him as he walked back towards the castle, tears blinding his vision, with the rest of the student body and staff following demurely behind him. As the somber group made its way back into the school, a lone Phoenix circled the grounds, singing out its mournful song for his lost companion and echoing the grief that had wrought itself deep in Harry Potter's soul.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33: A Resolution**

Harry disappeared the two weeks after the battle before the rest of the school would take exams and then be dismissed for summer holiday. No one knew where he went except for Ginny, and she wasn't talking. Many thought Harry had gone on a mission to avenge the headmaster's death, but Hermione and Ron knew better. For one, his invisibility cloak remained in his trunk at all times, not to mention the Marauders' Map. Clean clothes disappeared at random, only to be replaced by dirty ones neatly stacked at the foot of Harry's four-poster. Although classes were still attended in the rest of the castle by a zombie-like student body, Harry was nowhere to be found. His assignments showed up completed on teachers' desks, sometimes a few days in advance, and were proven to be authentically Harry's.

Hermione Granger had always loved a mystery, and many years after she had left Hogwarts she had tried to solve where Harry had went during those weeks, but even with access to Harry's Pensieve an answer could not be found. Hermione was sure that Ginny knew, but Ginevra Potter was nothing if not an excellent secret keeper- no Fidelius Charm required. Harry did eventually return to the castle from wherever he was, indeed it was never proven that he left the castle at all. One Tuesday morning, the beginning of exam week, he just strolled into the Great Hall for breakfast and sat down in his usual place at the table (which all of Gryffindor had kept empty, just in case he should return) and asked Ron to pass the eggs, just as cool as you please. Ron did so, asked no questions, and life continued as usual, much to Hermione's intellectual disquiet.

Headmistress McGonagall seemed to think that the best way to deal with the school's loss was to go on as if all was normal and, for the most part, her plan was successful. The sixth year students still spent their allotted two hours a week with their mentees (Hermione had to swear a wizard's oath that she would write to Maddelein Roseworth over the holidays), and studies for examinations seemed to be progressing as scheduled. Aurelia Formosus was being tutored by Draco Malfoy almost ruthlessly- not that she needed it. She spent most of her time staring at her mentor with a confused, worried expression on her face, but when Draco would drill her on the practice exam sheets he had drawn up she would answer every question perfectly. This bothered Hermione as well, considering she spent much of her time in the library with Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna, studying with one another and quizzing their own respective mentees.

As for Harry… Harry never studied. It was true that sometimes he would bring his Pensieve and join them in the school's library but most of the time Hermione would find him poring over said Pensieve in the headmaster's library when she would go there to cross-reference a certain fact. Years later, Hermione would often think of the library, and in her mind it was always "The Headmaster's Library", or sometimes "Albus' Archives". She completely understood why Harry would spend the majority of his time there- it was as if the headmaster's omnipotent presence was still looming in the background.

Hermione may have believed that Harry wasn't studying, and she may have bugged him mercilessly about it, but in fact, Harry was studying harder than he ever had in his life. Not only had he gone over every memory in his own Pensieve, he had carefully examined those in Albus' as well. In the hours that Harry spent reviewing his own thoughts, he often kept one hand on his chest, absently tracing the outlines of his crescent-shaped silver brand. The words of his own prophecy rang through his head, taunting him with crucial knowledge that he believed could result in his success or failure in the final altercation with Lord Voldemort.

"_Separate the signs to end the war, now are divided, but together once more… Two in the now, and two in the beyond is how it shall be for the world to go on… Bound by a force that no one can break, finding a way for his life to take."_

Harry had virtually memorized the contents of _Debello_. With the words of the prophecy ringing in his ears, his mind began making connections. He reached for his Pensieve and began frantically swimming through his own thoughts.

…"_By power of the Equinox, we unite this love._

_In light of the moon in an eclipse by the sun,_

_We proclaim the rarity of a binding so pure,_

_Witnessed by eternal stars, ever shining above."_

_As if on cue, the moon suddenly disappeared in a complete lunar eclipse. Harry grabbed Ginny's hands and grinned at her- he couldn't believe it. They were getting married! After tonight he could call her his own for the rest of his life. Ginny grinned back at him as they felt Ron and Hermione place their hands on their shoulders and continue reading from the binding spell. _

"_We acknowledge one divine and single truth,_

_With essence drawn from both our spirits,_

_That love so true can be only found_

_In the hearts of pure and untainted youth."_

_At the end of this verse, Harry saw Ginny begin to glow. He watched in awe as a brilliant light seemed to radiate right from her heart. From the look on her face as she watched him he could tell that the same thing must have been happening to himself. The glow rapidly spread down the rest of Harry's body, filling him with unearthly warmth and then passing up through his shoulder and into Ron just as the glow from Ginny passed into Hermione. When the radiance had encompassed them all, they raised off the ground together, levitated inside a ball of pure, translucent light. Bidden by their hearts desire, Harry and Ginny began to speak their vows._

"_With all my soul I pledge you my heart_

_I give myself, my love, freely to you_

_Knowing that what I offer, I gain in return_

_Bound by power of Equinox's arc."_

_There was an abrupt flash, and for a moment Harry thought the spell had failed. The light was blinding! Soon, though, it subsided and encircled them in a ring of lightning. As the lightning circled faster, the ball seemed to glow impossibly brighter. _

_The ring split itself in half, and began to encase the sphere, one arc encasing the northern part, and the other encasing the southern. Each half circle began to pulse and rotate, stretching as it did so, one spinning vertically and the other horizontally until they turned into two complete circles of lightning. Spiraling faster than an atom's nucleus the protective ball glowed with a brilliant white light. As the sphere pulsed with the power of Equinox's Arc, all was still inside. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione floated into a circle and joined hands. The power of the spell radiating through them was intense, but almost erotically so. Where two circles had been made from one they now collided into a thousand other rings, circling and spiraling around the sphere, sheathing it in their pure brilliance. _

_Harry could see the sphere finally drawing to a close around them and his heart shouted with joy as he felt the culmination of the spell taking place. His entire body went rigid, his hand gripping tightly to Ron and Hermione on either side of him as his toes curled in ecstasy. It was mind-blowing. Four jets of red light shot straight from their chests to the outside of the ball and combined into a brilliant red firework above them. Slowly, as the shimmers from the explosion dissipated back to the ground, Harry felt the his body slowly release the tension as they lowered to the ground…_

_There was another brilliant flash of light as dozens more of the red fireworks exploded randomly above their heads…_

"_What about the mark, though?" asked Ginny, her face flushed in the moonlight as she examined her body for any signs of proof that her marriage was legitimate. "Hermione, didn't it say—"_

_Harry looked down at his own body, feeling his hands and face for signs of any change. He was beginning to grow frantic- what if the spell hadn't worked? He looked to Ginny. How could she be so calm? She looked beautiful, with her face glowing in the moonlight, and the necklace she was wearing shimmered prettily._

_But Harry didn't remember Ginny wearing a necklace. He reached an unsteady hand forward and carefully lowered the sweetheart neckline of Ginny's wedding dress, exposing the branding mark they had all been searching for._

"_Here it is, you guys. Right over her heart."_

_Ron and Hermione excitedly opened their robes to examine their own brands as Ginny opened Harry's to see her love's matching silver marking._

"_Ours are different from yours, Harry," noticed Ron. "See, look- Hermione and I have stars."_

_Harry and Ginny looked towards their friends and smiled._

"_The witness of eternal stars," said Ginny, as she looked over toward the book._

_Hermione smiled and ran her finger down the text. "That would be it. Stars mark us because we witnessed the ceremony, Ron. Ginny and Harry have crescent moons because it represents the sun bonding with the moon to make a lunar eclipse."…_

…

"_He's INNOCENT!" Harry screamed, though he knew it was useless._

_Sirius rushed forward to where James was sitting, and pulled up his left sleeve._

"_Do you see a Dark Mark, Prongs? Lily, I was there by your side in the delivery room for 7 hours helping you to deliver Harry after James fainted! I thought Peter was the perfect bluff—who would suspect him? I would NEVER betray you- you know that! **Peter** was the one that sided with the Dark Tosser! _

"_Fudge sent me to Azkaban WITHOUT A TRAIL! I was there for 12 years! The only thing that kept me sane was knowing I was innocent! I broke out and swam to shore as Padfoot, hunted down Harry and took care of him ever since he was 13. He'll be 16 next month! I already bought his birthday present!"_

_James and Lily looked horrorstruck._

"_12 years in Azkaban? You did that?" Lily whispered. "For US?"_

"_Yes!" Sirius cried, exasperatedly._

"_Twelve years? The last trial we've had was Andrawlson, and that was the first after we got here…Cedric arrived just before that, but of course, he wouldn't have known about Padfoot… _

"_The lack of time-space continuum… …I believe you, friend" James said, nodding slowly._

"_We must let the Heliopaths decide," interjected the old wizard. "They will be able to see the complete truth."_

_Harry cringed- he knew what was coming and didn't like it one bit. He knew Sirius was innocent, but that didn't make him want to sit through another round of Fire Demons to prove it. _

_The Heliopaths swept through the Deceasengamot and surrounded Sirius, their flames attempting to lick his body, but never coming in contact. In a flash they were gone, and suddenly there was a burst of brilliant golden light. Harry squinted his eyes, and when he opened them Sirius was still standing in the center of the Semi-Circle, only this time he was robed in gold, just like the other witches and wizards in the Deceascengamot, and looked as healthy as he did at James and Lily's wedding._

_The old wizard nodded his approval. "Only the righteous may pass through the veil and survive the wrath of the Heliopaths." _

_Lily smiled and began to wind her way down the steps towards Sirius, embracing him. "Only the untainted may judge in this courtroom."_

_She and James embraced their friend as the old Wizard spoke once more._

"_Sirius Black, do you acknowledge your death and departure from the physical plane of existence and accept your appointment into the High Court of the Deceasengamot?"_

_Sirius grinned, "You bet I do! Now when do we get to set those fire things on The Dark Sodder?"_

_The court laughed and many nodded vigorously in agreed anticipation._

"_Welcome home, Padfoot," James whispered…_

…

_Harry grinned, stood, and reached his hands out to her. Pulling her swiftly from her seat, he lifted her into the air and carried her to the bedroom they had first shared the night together- Eternal Sunset. Lying her down on the bed, Harry carefully removed her shoes and socks, kissing each of her toes and his heart warmed at her giggles. He softly kicked of his own boots and crawled into bed next to her. Snuggling in beside her, he lay his head on her chest and listened to her heart beating._

"_It seems different this time, doesn't it?" Ginny asked softly._

"Yes, love, it does. It makes it even more special."… 

_Carefully, as if Ginny were the most fragile thing in the universe (and she was about to be, as far as he was concerned) he kissed her cheek. He traced his fingers down her throat, past her collarbone, down her breastbone to her bellybutton and his lips followed suit. With each kiss he unbuttoned her shirt further down, kissing every part of accessible flesh. Her blouse was soon discarded, and Harry slowly unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, sliding it carefully past her hips to her thighs, kissing every inch of skin it revealed. Down it went, until her was once again kissing her toes, only this time she let out a sigh instead of a giggle. _

_Here was bliss. Here was happiness. Here was love. Here was… here was GINNY. Harry looked into her eyes, and it was as if he could see into her soul. The world was in his lover's eyes- everything that meant anything to him was there, swimming in lipid pools of chocolate brown. Each thought was a breath, each breath was a kiss, and each kiss was a touch, bringing them closer together, closer to fine. _

_Ginny…_

_Ginny had given up so much for him by offering to do this. Harry took a laborious breath as he pressed forward, staring into her eyes as he kissed her lips. She was willing to raise another savior, should he be unable to fulfill his duty. She was willing to give up her own idea of life to make sure that evil would perish._

_Harry…_

_Harry looked into her eyes, and felt himself pushing deeper than he had ever felt himself go before, all the while feeling her rise up to meet him. And Ginny, his wife, was gazing at him with the utmost trust, adoration and LOVE in her eyes. _

_And Harry knew._

_Ginny was the first person to ever love him. Granted, Harry knew people loved him- he had the rest of the Weasleys, Ron and Hermione, but Ginny was different. She was the first to ever love him unconditionally. All his faults, all his trials, all his expectations, the weight of the prophecy and the wizarding world that rested on his shoulders- she accepted them all. _

_Harry knew he loved her. He loved her more than anything else in the entire world—magic, his friends, even his own life. He was going to be a father, and in doing so he was going to make her a mother. His head was swimming- he had never felt so euphoric in his life. His body glistened with sweat and it mingled with Ginny's, who was panting with pleasure beneath him. He was nearing the edge and oh, how he wanted to just jump right off and FLY._

_The final moment was upon him, he didn't think he could hold out much longer and he knew she was right along the edge with him. Harry looked into her eyes and realization dawned on him. He would die for this girl. And he would do it willingly. He would do anything, and everything, in his power if only he could keep her and their child safe. Understanding crashed into his brain as his body hit the final tidal wave. He and Ginny crashed into shore together, panting in rhythm, their bodies fused like they had never felt before. And Harry understood like he never had before._

_In a way, Hermione had been right. Through an ultimate act of love, Harry unlocked his power. He knew what love was. And when he realized it, he understood that he had known all along._

_True love was to willingly die for someone else. Like how he would willingly die to save Ginny if he needed to. How he would gladly throw himself in front of her if it meant she would live and so would their baby._

_To give your life for someone else. The ultimate sacrifice. THAT was love. And Harry knew what he had to do- there could be no greater love…_

Harry pulled himself out of the memory with a lurch. His mind raced over what he would do for Ginny without a second thought, what Dumbledore had done for him without a second thought. The words of the two prophecies ran through his head and a world of possibilities unfolded before his very eyes.

"_Separate the signs to end the war, now are divided, but together once more… Two in the now, and two in the beyond is how it shall be for the world to go on… Bound by a force that no one can break, finding a way for his life to take."_

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

_And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

Without another thought, Harry smiled and dove into the memory of Miss Amanda's shop that last summer…

…"_Well, Mr. Potter," continued Amanda, interrupting his thoughts, "I know that Divination isn't exactly the most precise art, but in my family there has long since been an ability to detect certain Auras. From the moment you walked into my shop, not only could I feel something about you, I could see it as well. Even if you weren't already special for being "The Boy Who Lived", I would be able to tell you that you are most certainly going to be a powerful wizard and do very great things."_

Harry began to protest that he 'wasn't that special, really,' but Ms. Amanda stemmed his flow of arguments with the raise of her hand.

"No offense, Mr. Potter, but I must confess that I quite often wondered whether or not the so-called "Boy Who Lived" was all that he was talked up to be."

She smiled, "Now I know. Mr. Potter, you **will** defeat Voldemort."

The sharp intake of breath from Ron signaled to Harry that he was, in fact paying attention to Ms. Amanda's every word and his conversation with Kingsley seemed to have been put on the back burner.

"I know you can," she continued, "and if I cared to wager, this Pensieve just might help you unlock how."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34: Mind Over Matter**

Exams had finished and Harry walked with trepidation towards the Great Hall and his last meal of the year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As it had been in his fourth year, the hall was decorated entirely in black. The tapestries, the linens, the students' and staffs' robes, even the napkins had put on a dark shroud of grief in remembrance and respect to the late headmaster.

He sat down and held Ginny's hand under the table as they somberly shoved their dinner around their plates, none of it making it to their stomachs. He exchanged brief, but hollow smiles with students around the hall in an attempt to reassure them that he was still there and still fighting, every moment was for the destruction of Lord Voldemort. Ginny gave his hand a comforting squeeze and Harry smiled softly at her in thanks before he pushed his plate away from him, giving it up as a bad job.

The students and staff had long since given up the pretense of eating the end of year feast before Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat at the center of the staff table and softly cleared her throat. Those that had been whispering softly throughout the hall stopped immediately and turned their blank, haunted faces towards their new head in hopes of hearing a consoling speech that would help ease their pain. Minerva McGonagall stood tall, reigning supremely over the school at the head table- supreme, but silent. Several times she opened her mouth and made an attempt to speak, but to no avail. So many things she wanted to say, so many things her pupils needed to hear- and she could not deliver. With a gasp she choked back a sob, sank back into her chair and cradled her head in her hands.

The students remained silent, but stared at one another around the hall. Their world was falling apart before their very eyes until Cho Chang, in her last act as Head Girl, stood from her place at the Ravenclaw table, raised her glass and said softly, yet firmly, "To Albus Dumbledore; the greatest wizard ever known."

The school rose en masse and drank to their fallen leader.

After the scraping of benches died down and the school was seated once more, their pale faces looking even more somber than before, a lone figure rose silently from his seat and walked to the front of the hall. So softly he treaded that no one noticed his movement until he began to speak. Minerva McGonagall raised her head once again from her hands and stared at the sight before her. Harry Potter stood in front of the staff table, his face firm, his expression resolved, and his frame wrought with determination as he addressed the hall.

"Albus Dumbledore may have been the greatest wizard in the world, this is true, but to me he was more than that. Albus was my friend. And if he were here right now, I am sure he would be gravely disappointed in us all. He would not want us to sit here in our chairs and shrink away from the dangers ahead of us."No. He would want us to rise up, band together, and stand up to the threat that has burned out the hope in the wizarding world, much like an uncontained fire, since before most of us were born. Albus Dumbledore would want us to take down Lord Voldemort for good.  
"Over the past few years, how many of us have been made orphans by the monster that seeks to rule us? How many of us have lost loved ones and friends to the creatures that do Tom Riddle's bidding? How many people have been tortured, blackmailed, and threatened into his service? HOW MUCH LONGER will we step aside and stand idly by while he takes those that we hold closest to our hearts away from us?  
"This year we've put our blood, sweat, and tears into preparing ourselves to defend an attack by Lord Voldemort. Never again, I say. I pledge that now we put our efforts into preparing ourselves for the threat that we will **pose** to Lord Voldemort. I'm tired of playing defense against this "Lord". It's time we switched to offense. It's time he feared our coming instead of us fearing his.  
"You stood behind Dumbledore and all that he fought for. Now, I ask you to stand beside ME and help me fight for what we all deserve- a world where we can not simply exist, but LIVE! Help me fight for a world where we can raise our children out from underneath a tyrant's thumb. Who is with me?"

There was a moment of stunned silence before a majority of the school and the entirety of staff scrambled to its feet and cheered Harry's speech loud enough to rattle the roof of the Great Hall, while some few others stood from their seats and marched out in defiance of Harry and all he stood for. But he was past caring. If those that wouldn't stand with him had left, he was free to speak more plainly than he would have been had they stayed.

"Then let the offense begin!" Harry cried and then turned to Professor McGonagall. "Professor, I know of no better place to have everyone together than here at Hogwarts. Will you allow the school to remain open to those who wish to remain this summer in order to prepare for the final fight against the tyrant that is Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

Minerva nodded to him and then addressed the school at large. "Those students who are of age may stay here instead of riding the train home tomorrow. All others that wish to remain behind may either have their parents send permission by tomorrow morning's post or may go home and return when able to provide documented permission. Hogwarts will be home to anyone who wishes to aid us in thwarting… Tom Riddle." She gave Harry a small smile and then dismissed the throng of students to rush off and either pack or send post to their parents.

After the Hogwarts Express left from Hogsmeade there were several students left, though not as many as Harry had initially thought. In the end, he conceded it didn't matter- those that had stayed behind would be the most loyal he could ask for. Sanguine had been sent with a letter to the Burrow and returned with an almost immediate reply that allowed Ginny to stay. Ginny knew that even though she was considered to be an adult by wizard law since she was married, she still wanted the backing of her parents in such a bold decision. It wasn't long before the Order of the Phoenix would join the army at Hogwarts any way.

When those that remained had returned from sending the others off at the station, they sat down together at one long table in the center of the hall for tea, chatting with renewed vigor about battle tactics, strategies, and defense mechanisms. Harry sat with Ginny, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Hermione and smiled, gazing around the table and giving little notice to eating his dinner. He was finally doing something. The battle between himself and Voldemort was now on his own terms.

When supper was finished, all the students made their way to the Ravenclaw dormitory, which was closest to the Great Hall where they would have their morning and evening meetings. After everyone had settled in for the night in his or her new room, Harry found he couldn't sleep. Gathering his slippers and dressing gown, he left what had been christened "the barracks" and let his feet carry him on his usual route around the castle's deserted corridors. He wandered past the Room of Requirement, but found that he didn't feel quite like entering it this evening. Instead, he wandered past the dozing portrait of the Fat Lady and over several corridors to the painting of a wizened old man organizing a card catalogue.

"Excuse me, kind sir?" Harry asked pleasantly. "Where is the library?"

The man smiled and replied, as was customary, "Why, right this way, my good man."

Harry nodded politely and walked along the darkened corridor to the next painting behind which the library was hidden, spoke the password, and sat on the rough rock seat as the painting spun around.

But Harry wasn't here to research tonight. This evening, he just wanted to look. He had loved Albus' library from the moment he had set foot in it and wanted to admire the vast collection that resided there. Books and treasures and fond memories of afternoons he had spent here with his wife and friends were every which way he turned. Three times Harry had slowly circled the library when a door suddenly appeared next to the bookshelf that hid the secret stairway into the headmaster's office. Harry walked towards it and then opened the door silently, wondering what he might find inside considering that he had been in this library many times before and never come across it.

He found himself in a spacious office with a mahogany desk, leather armchair, quills, parchment, books, small couch, and large armoire at the far wall. There were small tables with even smaller magical instruments, as well as photographs, but Harry knew he could come back and examine them later. Proceeding curiously to the back of the office, Harry opened the ornate piece of furniture and let out an audible gasp at first, the increased internal space on the inside of the armoire, and second, what stood behind its doors.

The Mirror of Erised.

A small, hidden door opened on the side of the armoire and a brilliant, shimmering light drew Harry's attention away from the mirror he hadn't seen in five years. A Pensieve was beckoning him from the hidden compartment, and Harry immediately recognized it as belonging to Dumbledore. He gazed thoughtfully at the Mirror and then plunged himself face first into the basin, feeling the headmaster's memories swirl around him as he softly fell to the floor and stood up to see a slightly younger, but still grey haired Albus Dumbledore standing next to him. Harry estimated that this memory couldn't have been from more than fifty years ago, as Albus still had the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

He watched as his friend approached the Mirror with keen interest and slight apprehension, much like Harry himself had when he had discovered it for the first time. Harry stood beside Albus as he looked into the Mirror, and watched the old man's face as the glass showed him the deepest desire of his heart. Slowly, Albus Dumbledore smiled. But something was amiss- it had to have been the saddest smile Harry had ever seen. He watched, transfixed, as a single tear rolled down the headmaster's cheek, before the memory blurred and Harry felt himself being pulled away.

Slowly, the office room came back into focus and Harry saw a soft, suede bound book standing against the wall of the hidden compartment in the armoire that he hadn't noticed before. Harry looked around almost guiltily before he opened the book and watched as the pages magically fell open to an entry dated from the 23rd of November 1981.

_Dear Journal,_

_I discovered the most curious thing this past summer holiday. A certain Mirror- the Mirror of Erised- that shows one whatever the deepest desire of his or her heart may be. At first I was greatly against approaching this Mirror for I feared that once I were to discover my heart's true desire I might go mad with wondering whether or not it were achievable. But, alas, curiosity won out after everything that has happened in the past month. Last night I approached the Mirror and discovered something I think is like to haunt me until my dying day…_

_Not a month has passed since I left Lily and James' son, Harry, on his relatives' doorstep in Surrey. I've watched the Muggles every possible moment since. I knew I was taking a risk leaving young Harry with them after all the stories I had heard from James and Lily about her Muggle family, but I thought that surely no Muggle could be as bad as she had described. _

_I was wrong. _

_I have never seen a worse pair of human beings than Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and one can only shudder to think what their own son will turn out like under their care, much less how poor Harry will behave. Despite everything, the last Potter has remained the most sweetly dispositioned baby I have ever met. _

_Many times I have thought about going back on my decision and removing Harry from that horrid place and housing him in the wizarding world. Even more times I have thought about taking him into my own care. But, alas, despite the joy that watching Harry grow up under my own hand would bring me, the probability of disaster weighs on me even more. What if I couldn't protect him? Learned as I may be, and though I would wholly devote my life to him, I cannot provide the soundproof protection that the charm using his mother's blood through her Muggle sister can. As much as it makes my heart bleed to leave young Harry with those people- if one can even consider them to be human- it would give my conscience an even greater heartache to know that I **could** have protected him by leaving him there. If I were to take him into my own home and then he were to be killed due to a lapse in my judgment… No. Even leaving him to live with the Muggles must be better than that._

_Even though I am at the Dursley residence at every spare moment, Harry can have no knowledge of me for fear that it might alert the wrong people and put him in danger. I either light on his bedside in my Animagus form (Petunia has made his sad excuse for a cradle from a pulled out dresser drawer), or I stand watch over him by night whilst invisible. Many times he cries in the night and no one will attend to him. Sometimes Petunia will come in and shush him harshly, but she never holds and comforts him the way a mother should. The way a mother would. Sometimes I buzz around his head in loops to entertain him and keep him quiet, but lately he has just been silent. I think he knows that he has to fend for himself and that crying will only get him reprimanded. My heart aches at the thought of leaving Harry where he will never know what love feels like. Even worse, I know he will certainly never love ME- the one who forced him to live in such an awful place. The one who will have forced him to grow up in a house where no one will love him… at least, no one but a random bumble bee that often lights out of sight on the windowsill. Yes, I know now that I have come to love Harry as if he really were my own son, although I would never admit it until last night._

_Yes, last night I finally approached the Mirror of Erised and gazed in at what was my heart's true desire. And what did I see? Did I see unlimited prosperity, omnipotence, or immortality? No. I saw myself standing with a young boy, and we are talking and laughing and hugging one another. Sometimes we are flying a kite, or I am reading him stories while I tuck him into bed. I can see that my Erised reflection loves this boy, and he loves me. I know instantly that we are father and son! Could this be my desire? Could it be that all this time I am devoting to Harry Potter stems from my own secret desire to become a father? I examined the Mirror for hours before I could no longer ignore the sign that was staring me blatantly in the face. This boy in the Mirror, the one that loves me like a father, has a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. My 'son' in the Mirror is Harry Potter._

_It seems that my deepest desire is to have a boy, the boy I have condemned to a life of servitude and hatred, love me. In the end, the Mirror has not made me mad- it has made me sad. For I know that if I were Harry, I could never love me. I could never care for or even respect the man who forced me to grow up where I was hated and despised. But I shall try to get him to love me, no, to even care for me at all as a wizard…as a person__…__  
_

_If I accomplish anything in my life, it will be to have Harry Potter forgive me for what I have done._

_But, in the meantime… I have lesson plans from the professors to review and meetings to prepare for tomorrow morning. It will be a long night and it is rather cold in my secret little office, so I do believe I shall put on some wool socks before I begin my work for the evening._

_Albus_

Harry smiled as he let the journal fall closed in his lap. All this time he had wondered where the Mirror of Erised had went, and it had been near him all along. Slowly, he stood up and made his way back to the barracks and his bed with Ginny. He stepped into their private chamber (what was normally the first year Ravenclaw boys' dormitory during the school term) and shivered as he removed his slippers and dressing gown. Without thinking Harry went to his dresser, removed a certain item of clothing, and put it on before he climbed into bed.

"Whergo, Harry?" Ginny mumbled sleepily.

"Just getting some wool socks, love," he answered as he kissed her goodnight. He smiled as he realized she was already asleep again, so he wrestled his pillow back from her and settled in for a pensive night.

"…Wool socks, indeed."


End file.
